


"You Know They're Gonna Think You're Lovers, Right?"

by neglectedrainbow



Series: YKTGTYLR [1]
Category: Dear Evan Hansen, Dear Evan Hansen - Pasek & Paul/Levenson
Genre: Alana is gay af and I relate so much, Angst, Anxiety Disorder, Broadway, Everyone is Queer, F/F, F/M, Gen, Happy Ending, Humor, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Soft Kleinsen, Suicide mention, Zoe is here a lot because I love her and She is so Important, dear evan hansen - Freeform, evan character study, evan pretends that he and connor dated, evan's father is Not Good, heidi deserves better, if angst had a name it would be this fic, jared is in love with evan, jared-centric, logically, mr. and mrs. murphy think that connor and evan were together, prepare for angstttttt, protective!heidi, questionable parenting, rather than just being friends, some sexual content, starts right after "for forever", that jansen fic, the bisexual friends unite
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-09
Updated: 2017-06-23
Packaged: 2018-09-23 00:46:19
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 30
Words: 66,029
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9632210
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/neglectedrainbow/pseuds/neglectedrainbow
Summary: Mr. and Mrs. Murphy wonder if maybe Connor and Evan were dating. Evan wonders if he can ever get out of the mess he's made.





	1. The Start

**Author's Note:**

> i heard about this au on tumblr from dearalanabeck! and wow! i immediately had to write it! evan's exact thoughts are in italics. here we go, and thank you for reading!

“And after we got out of the emergency room, and my-my wrist was all...fixed up, we saw the-the sun...drop down, over the horizon, and everything was so bright and dark at the same time, for forever and ever, and-” Evan forces himself to stop talking. He glances to Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, trying to evaluate their expressions. _Did I say too much? Could they tell I was lying? Did-_

His thoughts are cut short as Mrs. Murphy-- “Call me, ‘Cynthia,’ darling.” --speaks, “Thank you, Evan.” A smile spreads across her face. “Thank you,” she repeats.

“Oh. Oh, of-of course,” Evan stammers in response, trying to stabilize his voice. He glances around the dinner table, attempting not to focus on Zoe too much. He wonders idly why the tablecloth is so soft between his fidgeting fingertips.

Mr. Murphy-- “Larry.”--clears his throat, inclining his head to his wife in a subtle, silent conversation. He turns to Evan, his hands clasped on the table. “Well, Evan, thank you-thank you for that beautiful story.” His tone is soft, as though he’s testing the waters. “We have some questions, though, as you might-”

“Oh, of course!” says Evan hurriedly, before realizing that he interrupted the man. “Oh, I’m-I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-to…” he trails off, awkwardly.

“Right,” replies Mr. Murphy, kindly. “Well… You see, we were wondering if… We were wondering if maybe…”

“If maybe you and Connor were,” starts Mrs. Murphy, “in a relationship.”

Evan looks between the two of them, back and forth. “Um, he was-he was my best friend.” The two final words still seem to exciting, so energizing, so promising, after years of assurances from seemingly the entire student body that he would never have a “best friend.” 

“Yes,” Mrs. Murphy forges forward, “but we were curious if maybe, if maybe there was more to your relationship than being best friends.”

Evan searches her face, his eyebrows furrowed. She seems sincere, seems interested and careful. His eyes flick to Mr. Murphy, who’s watching him back with caution and-and something else, something else that Evan can’t identify. “I’m sorry, I don’t understand-”

Zoe leans forward, her elbows perched on the dinner table, “Connor had loads of boyfriends.”

“I wouldn’t say loads, honey,” Cynthia responds.

Zoe sighs, “Fine, a couple. Connor had a couple boyfriends.”

“Oh,” Evan says, numbly. “I’m not sure if-” _if I should be here, if I’m making a mistake, if they even want me here, they probably don’t, they probably hate me, think I’m some fake, I am a fake, and now they think that Connor and me were dating and what if they’re not okay with it, what if-Dad yelled, he yelled when I told him, when I said that-_

“It’s just a question, Evan.” Larry cocks his head calmly. Evan’s million-mile-an-hour thoughts crash to a sudden, complete halt. Larry doesn’t seem angry, doesn’t seem even slightly upset, but then again people always lie, always, and you can never really read faces, and-

“Honey, it’s alright if you were.” Cynthia smiles at him, but her eyes are still covered with the pain of using past tense. _They’re so kind, they’re too kind, too good to be true, Mom always says, and so it’s not true, not of it is true, I'm such a liar-_

“Yeah,” Zoe adds. She looks at him a little harder. Her previous neutral, slightly amused expression shifts to confusion and-and sadness. “We’d never be angry at you.” _You’re damned if you do and damned if you don’t, and you’ve already been damned._

“It’s just-” Cynthia lays her hands on the tabletop, a gesture of peace. “The secret emails, the hidden meetings, us never meeting you… Connor was always very reserved with discussing his sexuality, despite our full-hearted support of him, so you must understand how we would assume-” 

Jared’s voice rings throughout Evan’s head, “Just nod and confirm. Whatever you do, just don’t make shit up.” _Just nod and confirm, just nod and confirm, justnodand confirm, justnodandconfirm just_

Evan nods. He confirms. “Yeah. Yeah, Connor and I, we were together, not for very long, we were friends-we were best friends beforehand, but-but yeah. Yeah.”

“Huh.” Zoe shrugs. “And here I always thought you had a crush on me.” She chuckles, shaking her head slightly. The corners of her eyes crinkle. Cynthia laughs slightly too. Evan joins them, probably a little too high-pitched and for a little too long.

“Yeah.” Evan rubs the back of his neck, glancing around again, wondering when he can make a timely exit. “I… My mom, probably, she probably wants me to, to come back home, so I should… It’s a school night.” He trails off, wondering why any of these people have voluntarily chosen to spend time with him.

“Of course, and we would...we would love to know more, to hear more, to remember...to remember our son, at any time you’re able, any time you have enough strength.” Cynthia smiles. She stands. “Larry?”

Larry stands as well, “I’ll walk you out.” Evan pushes his chair back, scanning the two faces. He sees only acceptance and curiosity. For a brief moment, a pang of jealousy spreads through his body like a wild fire, a burn of anger and frustration. He shakes his head, trying to push away the envious thoughts-- _I wish I had a family so-so..._

His mouth opens, seemingly without his permission. “It wasn’t for very long, but we were, we were close, and-and, yeah, it’s great that-that Connor had...a family that was-that is so...accepting….”

Mr. Murphy furrows his eyebrows briefly, leading Evan towards the front of the house--the big beautiful, furnished, expensive, luxurious house. “Well, your parents must be pretty proud of you, too.”

“Yeah, yeah,” the lie forces its way through his teeth, “yeah, they couldn’t be prouder.” Dad always thought that Evan needed to be fixed, that he was broken in some way, ever since he first mentioned that he honestly thought that Han Solo was just as attractive as Leia-and-and Mom always looked at the world with an open mind, always seemed to love unconditionally, but she thought Evan needed to be fixed, too, just in a different way, with the anxiety medications and the therapy and his psychiatrist and-

“They should be, Evan.” The two reach the door. Mr. Murphy. The Murphys. They’re just too kind, they’re too nice, it’s too much, too-

“I don’t know why I said that. That’s not true, that’s not- My-my dad. My dad thinks that it’s...unnatural. He doesn’t...approve. He thinks-he thinks-”

“He’s wrong,” Mr. Murphy abruptly assures. “You know that, yes?”

“I do,” Evan says, and for once, it is the true.

“Good.” Mr. Murphy looks tired. “That’s good.” He coughs. “That’s good.”

Evan nods. He steps out of the house, begins to walk home, and wonders what the hell he's gonna do next.


	2. What Happens Next

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "What have you royally fucked up this time?" Jared huffs.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this isn't necessarily a big action or plot chapter, it's more setting up what's to come. we meet the lovely Jared Kleinman, as he and Evan try to figure out what happens next. also, enjoy the fluff while it lasts cause it's not gonna be here long! also, this chapter could be titled: Jared is Gay and Evan is Stressed Out

“What have you royally fucked up this time?” Jared sits sprawled across a swivel chair in his room. The walls are wildly decorated, adornments ranging from group pictures at Hebrew camp to sci-fi movie posters. Jared’s room hasn’t changed much over the years, just grown more and more clustered.

“I haven’t ‘fucked up’ anything, Jared,” Evan retorts, without real venom. He’s sitting on the wooden floor, his head propped against the edge of Jared’s bed. “I just-”

“Told them you two had a secret email account, and that you went and hung out in a fucking _forest_ together-”

“It was-it was an orchard,” Evan interrupts, which earns him a judgemental look from Jared, who quickly continues anyway.

“And, and, let’s not forget, oh right, that you two were dating! You! And Connor Murphy! Dating! I mean, Evan, you two were totally out of each other’s league, honestly-”

“Look.” Evan huffs, rubbing his hand through his hair nervously, “I know that he was cooler than me, and more handsome than me, and just everything, but you don’t have to go and say that it’d be impossible for me to-” He knows he has a kinda strange face, too long for his skinny frame, he knows that he’s a bit abnormal, fidgets and flinches and can’t hold a conversation very well, he knows he’s a failure and lacking and a burden, but just because he and everyone else knows that doesn’t mean Jared can just blatantly confirm it to his face. 

Jared scoffs. “What? No, man, I’m saying _you’re_ out of _his_ league.”

“What?!” Evan immediately comes to attention. His eyes narrow. _He’s lying to you, of course he is, you’re such a pathetic mess, you couldn’t even just do your fucking job without screwing everything up. Jared’s right, you’re such a fuckup, you always are, you always will be, it’s a wonder he even is willing to spend this time with you, but he’s lying, of course he’s lying._ “Jared, you’re so-”

The other teen stops swiveling for a second, finally focusing his whole attention onto Evan. “What now?”

“Don’t lie to me,” He pauses. “Please.”

“Oh, so suddenly you have a problem with lying,” Jared mocks, rolling his eyes, before stopping abruptly, seeming to understand. “Wait, Evan, no, I wasn’t lying. I’m not. Connor was, like, rude all the time, and super bitter.” Evan wants to defend Connor, to try to make Jared understand that none of that was Connor’s fault, that Connor was multidimensional and tried so hard, and all of it was inevitable, unchangeable, that Evan’s 100 times worse at least, but he’s still too stunned to say anything. “He was so… And you’re you, so… Like I said, way out of his league.”

“Um…” is all Evan can reply.

“You don’t have to agree with me.”

Hurriedly, Evan responds, "I don’t.”

Jared scoffs again, and finishes his sentence. “But it’s the truth, so.”

“Um...tha-thank you?”

Jared smiles slightly, and nods, then suddenly freezes. He clears his throat and coughs roughly. “Oh, uh, right.” Evan can see red flooding his cheeks. He’s still beyond confused.

Evan nods, “Right.” He stands up. “What should we-what should I do next? Do I come up with-with dates to tell them about, do I… I don’t know what to do, I don’t know what I’ve-what I’ve gotten myself into.”

Jared huffs and stands up too, glancing around the room. He pushes his glasses up the bridge of his nose again. “Yeah, you can come up with some sappy dating shit later, right now we gotta focus on the logistics.”

“But what will I-how will I,” he stops, closing his eyes briefly, trying to make the flow of words stop long enough to find a full sentence. “What will I tell them?”

“I don’t know, bro.” Jared snickers, a plot spreading across his dark eyes, “You two went to the orchard and banged underneath the apple trees."

Rather than balk in horror like he may have a few moments ago, Evan actually laughs. A joke. Some of the tension in the room flies away. He’s feeling good, relaxed. _It’s not going to last long, soon you’re gonna falter and they’re gonna find out that you were lying, and they’re gonna hate you, even Jared will hate you, no, Jared already hates you-_ He shakes his head violently side to side a few times, knocking away the thoughts, before blinking rapidly. “Isn’t that illegal?”

Thankfully, Jared just watches him for a few moments but doesn’t acknowledge Evan’s actions. He smirks, “Only if you get caught.”

“Right, of course.” Evan shuffles over to the computer, smoothing down the front of his t-shirt. It’s the same striped blue as always. Mom probably bought five pairs when they were on sale at a local store that just went out of business. He adores them, the smooth light blue pattern, the dark blue stripes. The shirts remind him of the sky, of summertime, of warmth, of fresh air on his skin and leaves between his fingertips. The texture is precise, smooth but not too smooth, flexible but not overly, not scratchy, just pure.

He despises buying more clothing, more than almost anything. The crowds, the workers all around him, asking him questions he doesn’t know the answer to-- “What are you looking for today?” --or questions they probably don’t want him to answer-- “How has your day been?” He hates trying new things, all the change, the itchy fabric, the price tags, the size labels, Mom’s strained smile as she searches through her purse, everything, all of it. He’d rather just find a few things and stick to them. 

_Maybe if you dressed better, though, maybe if you looked nicer, maybe if you weren’t so awkward and strange and abnormal and unnatural, maybe if you dressed like all the other boys, maybe if you looked different, maybe than you’d have a chance with someone who isn’t a dead boy’s memory._

“You okay? Evan?” And Jared’s by his side. He doesn’t remember that happening. “You kinda blanked out there.” Jared waves a hand in front of his face. “Hello… Do you need a paper bag?”

Evan blinks again. He can’t breathe. “I-I’m fine.”

“I can get a paper bag.” Jared doesn’t move an inch.

“I said I’m fine.” He tries desperately to calm his breathing, calm his racing heart. “I’m not sure what...happened, but… I’m…”

“I swear if you pass out on me…” Jared doesn’t finish the threat, just takes a few steps back from Evan and surveys him. Evan chuckles suddenly, his hazel eyes alighting. “What?”

“I guess I really, really, really don’t have a chance with Zoe Murphy now.” Dating your brother’s supposed ex-boyfriend would not be a desirable thing, Evan imagines.

Jared raises a single eyebrow. “Did you ever really have a chance to begin with?”

Evan laughs slightly, thinking of Zoe’s smooth light hair, her rich eyes and happy smile, her friends and family and passion and talent. “No, no, not really.”

Popping open his laptop, Jared motions to Evan. “Come on, we got a fake email account to make.” And they begin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you so much! comments and kudos are what inspire me to continue with this. i read and reply to every comment, and i'll take every suggestion into consideration! i don't know if i'll fully developed Jared as being interested in Evan (unrequited, perhaps, angstily? or no?) or something else, but that's the direction right now.


	3. Misunderstandings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared huffs, “You need to calm yourself."
> 
> “I am perfectly calm, Jared, stop-” Evan cuts himself off suddenly, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “I’m not in the mood to be fighting-”
> 
> “We’re not fighting,” Jared interrupts.
> 
> OR: the boys have a fight.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> hello! i love you all so much, and here is another chapter (the longest so far, i believe)! hope you enjoy!

“Why would you write that?” Evan scans the fake email, his eyes halting at the line, _“I rub my nipples at start moaning with delight.”_

Jared huffs, “I’m just trying to tell the truth.”

“I’m not-I will not give Mr. and Mrs. Murphy-” Jared rolls his eyes at the formality, but Evan forges onward. “I will not give them an email about-about _that._ "

Jared raises a single eyebrow, judgement written clearly across his face, “Well, if you were really dating…”

“No!” Evan hisses, “I can’t. Just. If you’re not gonna take this seriously-”

“Calm down!” Jared glances at the door quickly, making a mental note to see if anyone else is home. “You need to calm yourself,” he reiterates.

“I am perfectly calm, Jared, stop-” he cuts himself off suddenly, squeezing his eyes tightly shut. “I’m not in the mood to be fighting-”

“We’re not fighting,” Jared interrupts. “We’re not even arguing, okay? Just, let me-” He snatches the laptop back from Evan, thumping it down on the desk again and typing a few lines. “There. Is that good?”

Evan sits down next to Jared, surveying the damage. He reads the typed sentence aloud, “‘Hey Ev, do you want to hang out in the place next Friday?’ Signed, ‘Connor.’” He glances suspiciously at Jared, “What’s ‘the place'?”

Jared squints up at Evan, “I don’t know. The secret hideout you two used to bang secretly.”

“Can you-can you please stop using the word ‘bang’? Please?”

“Never,” the other boy snickers. “Never, not in a million years.” He flops back in his chair. “It’s good though, right? Not more than a couple words. That’s more like the IRL Connor, I think.”

Evan nods, slowly. It does sound better than their previous drafts. “‘Ev’?” he questions. “Is that a nickname?”

“Uh, it’s more a diminutive, but yeah. I did learn something in English last year, believe it or not,” he snarks. “What? Would you rather him call you ‘Evbear’ or… ‘Evee’ or ‘Neva’ or ‘Easy E’-”

“Jared…” Evan warns softly.

“‘Sleezy E’--oh, that’s a good one--or ‘Evano’ or ‘Evangelica’ or-or ‘Evalicious’!”

“Jared…” Evan warns again, slightly louder.

“Oh my God!” Jared cackles suddenly, his entire face lighting up, as he frantically begins typing again. “Dear Evalicious Definition Make Them Boys Go Loco, do you want to-”

Evan cuts him off roughly, “Jared! No! That doesn’t even make any-”

“You’re right,” Jared’s face grows mockingly sober. “Connor wouldn’t be the Fergie type, would he. But…” he backspaces a few times, “he’d most definitely call you, wait for it, ‘Evanescence,’ or maybe just ‘E’ for short, you know, like the drug.”

Ignoring this suggestion altogether, Evan merely takes the laptop back. “I think ‘Ev’ works just fine, thank you. Though, no one’s ever called me that before.”

“I’ve called you that before.” Jared looks mildly offended, his expression contorted. 

Evan huffs, glancing from Jared to the laptop and back again, unable to determine if Jared’s lying and unable to remember either way. He plows forward before he can become lost in the debate. “Right, we’ll just mention that he...wanted to meet up, at this mysterious place, and I’ll reply in agreement, and that’ll be most of our-our email exchanges, right? Because-because, I don’t really… I’m not a big fan of-of contacting through email, because...” 

_Because it’s horrifying and you can’t interpret tone or hidden meaning, the meaning you can normally read across someone’s face if they’re directly talking to you, and if they reply with a short answer, does that just mean they don’t like sending paragraphs at a time or does that mean that they don’t want to talk to you anymore or that they hate you and think you’re boring or does that-_

“Well, because I just don’t, so. And-and Connor...he respects that, and listens to me, and acknowledges me, and so that’s why the-why the emails aren’t too intense, but there was a break in them, maybe over the summer, when I was at-when I was...studying to be a-a junior park ranger, and we didn’t talk then because I had no-no Internet access, but after that we were… We were on a regular communication schedule, I guess? Like we’d...spend time together, at my house or his or-or at the place, where n-no one else would be, and we’d, like, watch the sun set and-and I’d tell him about-about the trees...in the area-”

Jared holds up a hand for a moment, effectively and utterly cutting Evan off. “You’d tell him about the trees?”

“Yes.” Evan coughs. “And-and Zoe asked me to come over on Wednesday, so-”

Evan’s still looking at the laptop, observing the emails, so he misses the sudden hurt that flashes over Jared’s features. “I thought we were having a study session on Wednesday.”

“Oh,” Evan starts, “I-I forgot, I’m sorry, I can try to-”

“Nah. It’s fine.” Jared exhales painfully. “Yeah, so, the trees?”

“Yeah, there are a lot of--well, scientifically they’re called ‘Quercus rubra,’ not to be confused with ‘Quercus robur,’ which is completely different--trees in the area. They’re commonly known as ‘Northern Red Oaks’ or ‘Champion Oaks’ and they’re the official state tree of New Jersey, and they can live up to 500 years, according to the USDA, and-” Evan’s mouth halts to a stop, even as his brain continues to whir. “I’m sorry,” he blurts out, suddenly. “I’m sorry, you-you don’t care about that, he wouldn’t care about that--literally no one care about that except me, I’m sorry-”

“That was probably the longest time I’ve ever heard you go without stuttering.” Jared just looks at Evan, watching him with careful eyes. “Well, before you freaked.”

_You’re a freak, Evan, we all know it, you know it, Jared knows it, Connor would’ve known it if you ever spent more than two minutes with him, he never would’ve dated you, he never would’ve sunk that low. In fact, no one will ever sink that low, you’ll end up cold and alone surrounded by nothing except wind and memories of lost opportunities and self-loathing and everyone will leave you, Evan, everyone…_

Evan inhales swiftly through his nose, pulling his lower lip between his teeth until the pain grounds him enough to respond. “Right.” There is a slight tremble in his voice, but the word itself doesn’t waver.

“So, like…” Jared tilts his head to the side. “You really do like trees, then. That wasn’t a joke.”

“It's never been a joke, I’m not-” Evan looks away, eyes focused on some point left of Jared’s door.

The other boy chuckles, unkindly. “One of these days, Evan, you’re gonna actually finish a sentence.”

Evan whips back to face Jared fully. He looks all around, his eyes fluttering across Jared’s face, trying to understand what’s happening. “I do-I have-I have finished sentences before, Ja-”

“Mmmhmm, sure you do, _bud._ ”

Evan jerks back like he’s been slapped, standing up suddenly. It’s that word, that term of endearment, one that friends would use for other friends, thrown around so haphazardly, so carelessly, in such a condescending tone. 

_He says that word like it’s an insult, like it’s disgusting, like it’s revolting for him to even imagine being friends with you._

_“When will you get it?”_ Jared’s voice rings in his head. _“We’re not friends. I only talk to you or else my mom won’t pay for my car insurance.”_

“Maybe-maybe if you didn’t interrupt me so often, I’d actually-”

“Of course.” Jared stands up too, a challenge.

Evan wants to keep talking, to go on even as Jared speaks, to run ahead, to speak over someone else just as others constantly do to him, but he can’t. It’s too ingrained in his nature to be silent, to become silent, to stop talking, to shut down, to close off. 

He doesn’t understand what’s happened, how they went from joking about nicknames to Jared blatantly mocking him. He doesn’t know what he’s done wrong--he always goes wrong somewhere, but where now? When?

Jared’s eyes are still boring into him. Evan can imagine two cuts slicing open his skin where Jared’s eyes are staring. He flinches despite himself, taking a step back. For a second, Jared’s entire body softens, his eyebrows drawn low in concern, as he reaches a hand forward, regret across his features. “I didn’t mean to…” his voice fades.

“Yeah-yeah,” Evan nods hurriedly, feeling a red hot fire spread across his face. “No, I get it. I do. I’ll just-” He bends down, grabbing his jacket and slinging it on. “It’s fine.” _You’re such a liar. You lie to the Murphys and you lie to your mother. You lie to Jared, to Alana. You lie to your therapist, you lie to yourself, you’re just one big lie, you’re all fake, all the time, lies, lies, lies lies lies lies lies-_ “Stop it!” he shouts, abruptly overcome. He presses his cold knuckles to his hot forehead, trying to silence the noise, the voice rattling around.

“Evan?” Jared is there, right next to him, and it’s too much, it’s all too much. Evan pulls back, shaking his head.

“Yeah, sorry about that, I’m just gonna…” He’s blinking rapidly, praying for his eyes to remain dry. “Gonna go,” he finishes lamely.

“Are you sure you’re-”

“Yeah, perfect, just-just wonderful,” Evan grabs his backpack from the floor, refusing to look at Jared. “The emails will work, and I can-I can talk to you...later, and print them out-I’m, I’m seeing the-Mr. and Mrs. Murphy later this week, so I’ll...bring them to them then.” He backs up to the door before Jared can stop him, pulling the door open. “Th-thanks, Jared, for, um, yeah.” The door swings shut behind him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was actually painful for me to write, but angst, as promised. comments mean the absolute world to me, as i read them all and incorporate all of your recommendations and thoughts into my next chapters. note: i firmly believe that jared calls evan "ev" without a single doubt in my head (as well as a myriad of other creative nicknames).
> 
> also "Dear Evalicious Definition Make Them Boys Go Loco" is now my favorite thing to type EVER
> 
> (not-so-fun fact: jared interrupted evan at some point while evan was talking ~98% of the time throughout this chapter)
> 
> anyway! thank you all so much for reading!


	4. Honey

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heidi touches her son’s arm softly, “I’m proud of you, sweetie-”
> 
> “What for?” he blurts out, suddenly, unable to withhold the question.
> 
> “I just am.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and here's another chapter! the introduction of heidi hansen, my love! thank you all so much for reading <3 from the bottom of my heart all the way up. tw: self loathing and depressed thoughts

Evan shuffles into his house, tucking his key away, glancing around wearily, and checking the time. Nearly ten o’clock. Evan rubs his eyes, pressing down until stars appear. He begins to trudge up the stairs when suddenly a voice stops him. “Where were you?” His mother appears from the dimly lit living room, her head cocked.

Evan surveys her carefully, eyes jumping around, trying to judge her anger. However, he doesn’t see any fury, or even frustration, just concern. “Um…” he trails off unhelpfully. “Oh, I was at Jared’s.” It’s partially the truth.

Heidi nods slowly, her eyes still sharp. He can see disbelief spread across her face but also the inherent want to avoid an argument. “We were,” he springs to add, “we were working on a Spanish project, together...and I-I just must’ve lost track of time.” He shuffles down to peel off his shoes, clearing his throat. “I’m sorry.”

Taking a step forward, Heidi regards her son. “Honey, it’s fine, just, it’d been nice if you’d texted me, is all.”

“Right,” Evan nods hurriedly. “I’m sorry. I will-I will next time?”

“And how is Jared? You haven’t seen him in a while…” She moves towards the light of the hallway. “Did he enjoy Jewish summer camp?” 

“Yeah, yeah, he-he made loads of new friends, he told me, and-and...yeah, so-”

Heidi’s eyebrows lower, pulling inwards. “I’m sorry you couldn’t go this year, sweetie, but you know I don’t have any extra money at the moment-”

“No, no, yeah, I-I completely get it.” He picks at a loose string on the bottom hem of his shirt. “He probably enjoyed it more without me anyway, so…”

“He’s one of your closest friends,” she starts, confusion written clearly across her face.

Evan swallows, and it feels like rocks forcing themselves down his esophagus. “Ye-yeah, he is. He is one of-one of my...closest friends, but _I’m_ certainly not one of _his_ , if-if that makes any sense.”

“Honey, I don’t think that’s at all-” she reaches forward, always selfless, always giving and passionate and reassuring, _always worthy and loving and she’s so good, so nice, gives you everything and anything and yet you’re so ungrateful, so bland and boring and she’s suffering because of you. Without you to feed and deal with she’d have enough money for everything, there was a statistic once somewhere that said each child on average costs $250,000 until the age of eighteen and you’re seventeen and you’ve cost more than that what with your therapist and your medications and your hospital visits and money money money money, all wasted, all wasted on something as pathetic as you._

“I’m sorry, Mom, I-I should-should, w-we should both go t-to bed, I’m-” he sucks in air through his teeth, “ _sorry._ ”

“Evan?” Heidi steps forward, reaches out a hand to touch him before deciding against it. Evan’s heart seizes, and he abruptly holds his breath to keep it from showing. “Are you alright?”

He pulls off his backpack, setting it on the ground, something--anything--to keep from seeing the disappointment in his mother’s eyes. He forces himself to smile, still avoiding her gaze, “I’m fine, just...fine.” He coughs, resisting the urge to pull at his hair. “It’s late.” He swallows again, unable to elaborate. Jared was right, _he’s always right, and he was right again, right about you._

“It is.” She’s still watching him, observing, searching for an answer that he can’t provide. “Are you still good on meds?”

The desire to scoff and huff crashes violently through him, the desire to look someone in the eyes for once, the desire to say, _“It does not mean I’m out of drugs every single time I act slightly less comfortable, every time I stutter or-”_ Evan cuts the thought short. “No, I’m still good for the rest of the month.” 

A memory crashes through him then, too, unexplained and passionate, of his mother asking, when she thought he wasn’t listening, whether or not they should give him the whole bottle of medication each month or just dole his out to him day by day, whether or not he could overdose on it all, go into kidney failure, commit suicide by the very thing they were using to try and save him. He remembers watching, listening, and never once speaking up for himself, never once having a say in the matter of his health, in anything.

“Should I make an appointment with Dr. Sherman?”

“The Thursday one will be fine.”

“Are you sure you don’t need one any earlier?”

He squeezes his eyes together, gritting his teeth, not out of anger, but out of something else, another emotion he can’t identify. “No, I’m-I don’t-it’s fine.” He realizes he’s said the word “fine” too often in the past few minutes, and latently bits down on his tongue. 

“How about we _hang out_ on Wednesday, huh?” She’s smiling, trying desperately to lighten the situation, to parse out what happened without asking Evan outrightly.

Zoe flashes through his mind, _"Connor had loads of boyfriends…” she smiled._ He frowns, wondering why that of all memories appears now, before answering. “I can’t-I’m-I’m busy Wednesday.”

Intrigue runs across his mother’s face, the want to ask for more information, for the details of this new and exciting apparent social life, but that want is soon repressed; she’ll probably ask him about the specificities on another day, a day when it isn’t so late and they aren’t so exhausted.

“Tuesday, then?”

There’s so much hope in her eyes, hope Evan doesn’t understand. _She’ll leave you, just like Dad did, walk out the front door, as soon as you’re eighteen, as soon as she doesn’t have to legally care for you, as soon as she can, she’ll walk out. She’ll say she’ll call you every day, but then every day will turn into every month and then every year and then she’ll be gone forever and you’ll be alone, all alone in this big bad world-_ Evan shakes his head, trying to rid himself of the conflicting thoughts racing around, banging roughly on the sides of his brain.

“Tuesday,” he confirms, meekly. “Perfect.”

Heidi touches her son’s arm softly, “I’m proud of you, sweetie-”

“What for?” he blurts out, suddenly, unable to withhold the question.

“I just am.”

Evan blinks, unable to respond or comprehend. He just nods, silent thankfulness, a type of thankfulness he can’t express without feeling undeserving. She nods back, too understanding, too _pitying-does she pity you, she obviously pities you-_

He nods one last time and begins to trudge up the stairs towards his room. The walls are mostly barren, a constant reminder of his overwhelming solitude. Some vague sketches he drew of trees over the summer line his bed, uncolored, bland in comparison to the vast natural beauty he remembers. A few textbooks on a desk, dull pencils, and a small closet, half-full; a bedside table with books and papers and a water bottle stacked atop, along with his pills, hidden away in a wooden box. _A secret, a shameful secret._

Evan stares at it for a few while, before opening it, pouring a single capsule into his hand, swallowing it dryly, and crawling into bed. He falls into an aching slumber, wholly unready to face the day before him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: the Gayness intensifies...
> 
> thank you endlessly for reading, and i absolutely adore all of your comments beyond belief! i take every note and suggestion into consideration, so if there's anything you want to happen here, or anything you want to tell me, it takes about 2 seconds! also, i love all of your kind words and appreciate them so much, they're what inspires me to write! thank you, and the next chapter will be up shortly!


	5. "Because..."

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Shaking his head, Jared clenches his eyes shut and turns, leaving Evan, alone, underneath a tree, his arm throbbing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Jared is back. Emotions are had. Welp. And I cannot believe I've updated twice in less than 24 hours, but this Chapter just was calling to me! Hope you enjoy!

The warning bell for homeroom hasn’t even rung when Evan is cornered by Jared in the hallway.

“Look-” Jared starts. He looks tired, the bags under his eyes more pronounced than ever, and his dark hair sticking out wildly. 

“It’s fine, you don’t have to...say anything…” Evan looks at his shoes, then up at Jared cautiously. Relief is obvious across the other’s face, a twinge of happiness in his eyes. He smiles, briefly. 

“Perfect.” Jared nods, rubbing his hands together. “Perfect. So, can we-we can finish up the emails today, maybe, after school?”

Shaking his head, Evan fiddles with the hem of his t-shirt. “Zoe texted me this morning and asked if I could come over today instead.”

“Zoe.” Jared’s face has grown stoney, the little happiness in his eyes dissipating. “I thought you were already seeing the Murphys on Wednesday.”

“Yeah, but her jazz band rehearsal was moved to Wednesday, so today’s the only day that works-”

“You don’t even have enough emails to show her. We only made, like, one.” Jared’s eyebrows are raised, his usual joking smirk replaced with scepticism. 

“Yeah, um, I figured I’d just bring them-them one a week, maybe? And just kinda talk about everything…”

Jared snorts, “Of course,” he rolls his eyes. “It’s just...you and Zoe, again.”

“Wh-what are you...trying to say?” Evan looks over at the other suspiciously.

“Just that you’re obsessed with her.”

“I’m not-”

Huffing, Jared continues, “You totally are, man. Like every day for the past, I don't know--since freshman year, I’ve had to deal with you going on and on about Zoe.” He puts on a mocking tone, “‘Oh, Zoe’s so hot and pretty and she’s such a good musician, I love her so much.’ Like, shit, Evan, I don’t wanna hear about your _obsession_ any longer, okay?”

“Fine!” Evan isn’t sure when this conversation changed into a fight, but apparently it did, somewhere along the line. “Fine!” he repeats. He runs the sole of his shoe--a decrepit thing, cover in holes--over the floor. 

Jared exhales through his teeth, glancing around, “We are not doing this in the middle of the school hallway.”

“Why?” Evan taunts. “Because-because you’re just _so_ embarrassed to be seen with me, I get it.”

“No, just,” he grabs Evan by the arm, pulling him along and shoving open the school doors, letting the cool air hit their faces.

“Wait,” Evan looks behind him, looks as the doors close behind him. “We can’t just cut class-”

“We can, and we are.” Jared is still dragging him away, without much protest, to his surprise, until they reach a clearing by the parking lot. 

The taller boy yanks his arm away, taking a few steps back. “If you hate me so much,” he closes his eyes briefly, “why don’t you just leave.” He opens his eyes again, surveying the area, watching cars whiz by in the distance. “Why don’t you just leave, then?”

“I don’t hate you-”

“Fine, not ‘hate.’ ‘Dislike’, then. Or ‘think I’m a total waste of time and space,’ or something like that.”

“I don’t-” Jared starts, his expression becoming slowly more disturbed.

“What _do_ you think then! I’ve been asking myself that question for years, and I still don’t know! I can’t figure it out. It’s like one second you’re mocking me and everything I’ve ever liked, and then the next you’re asking if we can hang out after school. It doesn’t make sense, Jared.”

“It doesn’t have to-”

Evan interrupts him again, fueling himself by years of unexpressed emotions, “Well, then, what-what is your problem, Jared? I don’t get it!” He’s speaking quickly, thoughts racing and vibrating, without end, full of anger and passion. But, for once, he doesn’t stumble over his words. “Why are you such a dick, if you don’t hate me! Why are you so angry all the time? My mom, I get; her life sucks, and it’s mostly my fault, in fact. The Murphys, yeah, their _son_ just _died_. Alana, too, she has loads of problems, just like me, only they’re almost worse because no one listens to her about it, because they all think she’s fine because she’s still a straight-A student. And me-" he stops himself from going on that tangent. "No… I’m not gonna stand here and wallow in self-pity, but _you_ , you Jared! You’re normal, perfectly normal, you’ve got a brain that works like we’re all told it should, no one in your family’s committed suicide, you’ve got extra money-”

Jared’s teeth are bared, and he speaks freely without a second thought, “Maybe you’re my only friend, huh? Maybe that’s why I’m so fucking depressed all the time-”

“You are not ‘depressed,’ Jared, you can’t just throw that word around like it’s-”

“-because of you, and-”

“Fuck!” Evan hisses, and immediately Jared pulls away, having never heard Evan say that word before. “You’re lying to me, again, you’re lying right now!”

“I am not!” Jared scoffs, his face pulled in disgust.

“You are! Just a few weeks ago, you looked me in the eye and told me about all the new friends you made over the summer, all the wonderful people you met at camp--without me--of that girl, that Israeli girl, remember, who you said was gonna be in the military or whatever, and you said-you said that you got to, what, ‘second base below the bra’ with her!”

“That was weeks ago!”

“Yeah, well I have a pretty good memory.”

“Well, fuck, Evan,” Jared folds his arms over his chest, his face set. “I lied.”

Evan looks the other up and down suspiciously. “When?”

“Then, a few weeks ago. I lied about all my friends at summer camp, and I lied about the Israeli girl, but I did not lie just now, alright!”

“Why?” He’s desperate, scratching at the rough surface of his cast. “Why?”

“Because it was actually pretty fucking awful, Evan! There were a lot of new kids that I didn’t knew, and sure my Hebrew’s gotten pretty dope, but other than that? Just-without you there-”

Evan grits his teeth. “Why would you want me there! All you ever did while we were together was complain about how annoying I was-”

“Evan! Stop! I swear!”

“Why can’t I have one happy thing in my life? Why not? Zoe is actually nice to me-”

Jared wrings out his hands by his sides, cracking the knuckles angrily. “You don’t need to tell me this every single fucking day-”

“Why can’t I? All you do is talk about how we’re not ‘real friends,’ and how you can’t wait to graduate so you’ll never have to see me again!”

“Because,” Jared stops talking suddenly, his eyes wild and final. “Because-” And suddenly Jared’s lips push against his forcefully. Jared’s hands are on either side of Evan’s face, fingertips pressing into his jawbone, shoving Evan back into a nearby tree. Evan's back throbs at the impact as his brain short circuits. _What?_

He can’t think, or see; he can only feel Jared kissing him hotly. Wet and warm and lips-is he kissing back? And suddenly an image of Connor, pushing Evan to the ground, flashes through his mind. An image of Connor signing his cast and smiling, too. And then Connor’s replaced by Jared, Jared’s steadying hand on his back as he asks if Evan needs a paper bag, Jared-

_Jared’s kissing you right now, you fool._

Evan tries to pull away, but the back of his head just hits the hard tree bark. Stars burst in front of his eyes as he lurches sideways, away away away. He stumbles and hits the ground, barely catching his fall with his good arm. Jared stands above him, staring down at him in disbelief, eyes wide and mouth open. Evan touches his lips, briefly, still propping himself up with his other arm. His lips are warm and tingling and-

Jared takes a step back, and his astonishment is replaced by horror. “Shit,” he murmurs, under his breath but just loud enough for Evan to catch. “Shit, shit, shit, I-I’m…” Jared begins backing away from him, tension still lacing the air thickly.

“It’s-” Evan starts, but he doesn’t know how to finish the sentence. _Fine? Not fine?_

Shaking his head, Jared clenches his eyes shut and turns, leaving Evan, alone, underneath a tree, his arm throbbing. _Somehow he’s managed to get in this position a second time._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> AhhHHHhhhHhhHhH the first deh kiss on ao3!
> 
> (next chapter, Zoe and Alana, as well as Connor, and Emotions (tm))
> 
> ((thank you all so much for reading this, and what're all of your thoughts on this chapter??))
> 
> also I'm working to portray Jared as a multi-layered character while not leaving out his antagonistic and confrontational aspects, and I'm trying to do the same with Evan's character, so that's probably why they're fighting so much at the moment, but I can assure you all that it won't be like that forever. (at this moment I don't think they're endgame, but I haven't decided!)


	6. Stand Up

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan can already feel the cold bite of winter approaching. 
> 
> OR: Zoe is here to save the day.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I meant to upload this yesterday, but suddenly it became absurdly long, by my standards, and I had more than enough to edit. But, here it is, finally! Chapter 6! Enjoy...

He lays on the ground for what seems like hours but is perhaps only minutes. Sun dances through the leaves of the tree above him. His pain subsides, as his lips stop tingling and his breathing slows. For a second, he considers it all being one big joke, a taunt, a prank, but Jared’s last expression lodges itself into Evan’s mind. The first self-driven surprise, which quickly morphed into horror and embarrassment. 

Evan can’t figure it out, can’t fathom what Jared would possibly gain from kissing him, why Jared would ever...anything.

Soon enough, his breathing slows to normal, a smooth in and out, in and out. He can hear his mother’s voice in his head as he recites those three words. “In and out, in and out…”

Cars speed by in the distance, an irregular whir of engines among the natural sounds of birds chirping and leaves rustling. Slowly, carefully, Evan pushes himself to a seated position, the side of his head pressed against the rough bark of the tree. He breathes in the scent of sap and wood. The birds’ songs will soon stop, though, he knows, and the leaves will flutter to the ground in brown and orange heaps as autumn quickly approaches. He can already feel the cold bite of winter approaching. 

He leans forward onto his hands and knees, approaching a standing position. His good arm aches from the awkward fall, but he twists it and flexes it without too much pain. He wonders momentarily if his mind, too, can be spared. 

The memory of Jared’s fingertips pressing into his jaw lurches through his mind. Can something so recent even be classified as a memory? He checks his watch. 9:37 AM, less than halfway through second period. He’s probably only been out here for thirty minutes. He turns his gaze to the tops of the trees.

His mind has shut down, silently refusing to forge through the clouds in his head. _“Why don’t you just leave, then?”_

He presses fingertips into his eyes, as the noises begin to build. _“Connor had loads of boyfriends.”_ He pushes further down, until white spots jump before his eyes, dizzying. _“And here I always thought you had a crush on me.”_ He gasps oxygen in through his teeth in quick spurts. _“And you’re you, so…”_ What does that mean, what does any of it mean? _“That’s probably the longest I’ve ever heard you go without stuttering.”_ Why would Jared possibly like him, how would he? How could he? How could anyone, he’s so broken and sad and desperate for attention yet scared of it all so much. _“Are you still good on meds?”_ They’re just piling up and up and up and he can’t tell what’s real and what isn’t, he can’t see straight. _“Well, fuck, Evan, I lied.”_ Voices ring and clang around in his head, running into one another, until he can see his mother, Evan can see his mother right before his eyes but it’s Mr. Murphy’s voice coming out of her mouth. _“He’s wrong, you know that right?”_

Except Evan’s dad wasn’t wrong, he wasn’t, not really. He was right about everything, about Evan especially, and Evan can see Connor’s face, too, his long face and deep voice and sad eyes--why were they so sad, every time Evan opened his mouth Connor just got angry, just hurled insults and shoved and yet Evan kept coming back, trying to reconnect, or was it Connor that kept returning? _“What have you royally fucked up this time?”_

He crumples onto the ground, the dirt crushed beneath his knees.  
______________

Evan Hansen wakes up four hours later, eyes dry and hands covered in dirt. He gets up, moving and thinking mechanically, too tired for anything else. He walks home, leaving everything still in his locker at school. He sneaks into his own house and takes a long shower, the hot cascade of water washing and washing over and over him until it begins to feel too overwhelming, too all-consuming. He gets out. There are 27 unread messages on his cell phone, along with 6 unanswered phone calls, so he quickly types out an explanation of where he’ll be after school to his mother--he’ll deal with the consequences of missing a day later--turns it off, and shoves it into his sock drawer. 

The clock strikes three o’clock before soon, and he slowly trudges towards Connor’s house--the Murphys’ house. He’s still in awe of it from the first time around, its wide doorways, elegant windows, and clean washed front. He stares at it for a few moments, his brain races with numbers and figures and feeling altogether dirty.

He takes a few choice steps forward, watching the tip of his shoe touch against the sleet concrete walkway. Evan feels dirty again, tugging at his shirt to try and flatten it out. He runs a hand through his hair and carefully knocks, three precise times. Is he too early, or too late, or are they not home yet, or maybe they’re ignoring him? He can’t bring himself to knock again, fearful of being more of an annoyance, so he merely waits until a slight commotion is heard through the door. 

And there appears Zoe, waving him into her home. “Hey! You’re here!”

Evan pauses, nodding quickly. “Hey.”

Zoe glances at him again, a kind of puzzled and intrigued expression across her face. _She’s probably wondering what Connor could’ve possibly seen in you._ He bites down on the side of his cheek, taking a step through the threshold.

“So...my dad’s gonna be home from work in like twenty minutes, and my mom’s just finishing tidying up and stuff, so… You can just come up to my room.”

Evan nods slowly. A few weeks ago--hell, even a few days ago--he would’ve stunned at the possibility of being inside the Murphy household, of seeing Zoe’s room, of being surrounded by such normality. But now? He can see cracks form in the pristine exterior.

Of course, he still follows Zoe, still worries about his shoes, still wrings his hands by his sides, clenching and unclenching.

Zoe opens the door, and before Evan has time to register his surroundings, she speaks, “Yeah, my girlfriend said that you were-”

Evan’s brain halts to an abrupt stop. “Your girlfriend?”

Zoe looks at him like he’s grown a second head, confusion written across her features clearly. “Yes…?” 

“I didn’t… You’re…” he trails off, unsure of how to end that sentence.

“I’m…” Zoe mimics him, trying to clarify.

“You’re…” Evan says, again, weakly, numbly, racing through his memories.

“Oh!” Zoe laughs, her eyes lighting up, seeming to finally comprehend the awkwardness of Evan’s attempted sentence. “Oh! Sorry, yeah, I’m bisexual. I thought you knew?” she pauses for a few seconds, her eyebrows smushed together. “I thought you were, too?”

“Well, I never, I never really, I never really said-”

“Are you gay then, or?” Zoe raises her eyebrows knowingly, obviously wanting Evan to finish the statement for her. “Pan?”

“I don’t-I haven’t-I’ve never,” Evan clenches his eyelids together, trying to keep his fingernails from drawing blood as they press roughly into the inside of his palm. “I’ve never labeled myself,” he forces out. 

He’s been too busy having general existential crises to have a specific sexuality-related crisis. 

“I never really… I’m…” An image of an old friend rushes through his mind, without his consent, flying through his head. He sees Charlie, the first boy Evan ever liked, the first boy Evan ever thought about dating, about kissing, about loving. His dark and curly hair, his smooth and warm skin, his hot lips against Evan’s underneath the swing by Charlie’s house, their first kiss--Evan’s first kiss--about everything, the summer between ninth and tenth grade before everything fell into tiny pieces.

He thinks about a girl named Talia, both young and having fun, before Evan’s anxiety grew exponentially and consumed him, before Evan’s dad seemingly disconnected himself altogether, before stares grew harsher and words cut like knives. Talia, who was sweet and could run faster than anyone else Evan knew, who taught him to climb trees, one foot after another, higher and higher, who smiled with blinding teeth and dimples.

Evan thinks of his only two true friends before Jared and Alana, and suddenly Jared, too, rushes unbidden into his mind. Jared’s voice echoes around the halls of his brain, fumbling and crashing. Evan’s lips still feel warm.

Thankfully, Zoe breaks him out of his revery. “So, essentially, you’re just not straight?”

“That’s probably-that’s probably a good way to describe it, I think.” Evan tries to smile, grateful of her ability to help him avoid any potential hyperventilation. She just nods in response. He stares for a few moments at the cuffs of her jeans. Tiny stars litter their edges, drawn with a swift and fluid hand across the demin. Suddenly, he remembers himself, and looks up, forcing his eyes to meet Zoe’s. “Your-your girlfriend, was she-is she… Do I-do I know...her?”

Cocking her head to the side, Zoe surveys him carefully. “I’m surprised you don’t already know, to be honest.” She takes a step back, then walks over to the door, blatantly checking the hallway before closing it. She turns back to him, crossing her arms. “You know Alana Beck?”

Evan freezes, even his twitching silenced. He’s still, utterly surprised. “A-Alana?” Alana, smart and cunning Alana, with a 4.8 QPA and mountains upon mountains of extracurriculars. Alana, who has never mentioned being remotely romantically or sexually attracted to anyone at all. Alana, who’s never even implied to be _interested_ in anyone.

“Alana?” he blinks a few more times, slowly processing. “Alana Beck?”

“That is what I just said.” 

“Right.”

They both stand there for a few moments, wondering what comes next, before Evan pauses a moment, “When did-”

“Three months ago.” A smile spreads across her face, “We went to see a concert downtown. I don’t remember half of the music, just how beautiful she looked underneath all those colorful lights.”

Evan’s heart clenches suddenly, and he feels a ball form in his throat, pushing out, out, out. “Why didn’t she-”

“I asked her not to,” Zoe clarifies, again answering an unfinished question. “I’m not out at school or to my parents. You know, they talk a lot about being accepting and supportive and blah, blah, blah, but they’re actually… You should’ve seen their faces after they caught Connor with his boyfriend 18 months ago, it was-” she shakes her head, and suddenly Evan sees Connor in her eyes. “No, no, you shouldn’t have seen it, no one should’ve, because it shouldn’t’ve happened. You know, they try, I know they do, but they just don’t quite try...hard enough, if that makes any sense?”

“I completely-I-I get that, totally, um… I haven’t-I haven’t technically come out to either of my parents, not in like a ‘I’m coming out right here, right now’ sort of way. Um, I was a bit-a bit fl-flamboyant as a child, um… I was-I was Snow White, for-for Halloween a couple of times, and I didn’t--back then--I didn’t have a filter, really. I just...spoke, whatever came into my head, so, they-they figured it out, pretty quickly, and I know that they know, but they’re not--my dad’s not...okay with it, so I’m not planning on-on confirming anything, anytime soon.” Evan clears his throat, running hot fingertips across the hem of his shirt.

“As long as you’re living your truth internally, I think that’s okay,” Zoe nods, brushing her hair back behind her.

He opens his mouth to respond but is interrupted by a voice calling from downstairs. Zoe walks over, placing a hand reassuringly on his shoulder. “You ready to meet the parents a second time?”

Evan nods.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> next up: C O N N O R
> 
> (I know I said he'd be here in this chapter, but it just didn't fit...)
> 
> Also Evan is me and I am Evan.
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and for all of your lovely comments, since they keep me going, keep me sane and writing. Thank you again and again and again! And I hope you enjoyed! I take requests and suggestions 24/7. <3


	7. Five Little Words

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can hear Connor’s voice reverberating through his skull, can see Connor everywhere, in this household, in the school. And it's too late to turn back now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are! chapter seven! i love each and every one of you who read this so so so so much, and a special shout-out to everyone who's commented, it's what keeps me going! hope you enjoy!

Evan’s fingertips rub back and forth, skin slightly calloused from his tree expeditions sliding against itself. He stares at his plate for a few moments, at the fresh slices of roasted vegetables, wondering when the last time his house has seen anything other than take-out. Cynthia holds the printed-out email in her hand. It’s a simple thing, completely unimportant in the grand scheme of it all, just two kids exchanging some words, but she’s holding it to her chest like it’s Heaven-sent.

“So you...you spent a lot of time at your house, then, I guess,” Mrs. Murphy starts. “Because we’d never…” She glances around, waiting for her husband or daughter to contribute at all, but they both are silent.

“Yeah,” Evan lingers on the others’ grateful expressions as he finally pipes up. “Yeah-yeah, we did, sometimes.”

Cynthia cocks her head, surveying him with the same watchful eyes as Zoe, though perhaps with slightly more hope, a new, wise brightness. “So does your Mother…?”

“No-no, she-we only ever went over to-to my house if-if nobody else was there-um, sometimes we came here too, if there wasn’t-wasn’t anyone, but it was easier at my place because my mom… Well, my mom works a lot, so there wasn’t any… Mostly, I guess, we just hung out outside, um, you know, at the park if-if it wasn’t crowded or-or the orchard, Connor just… Yeah.” Evan nods uselessly, as though his stumbling and mumbling have been any source of help.

“It’s funny,” Zoe chews on the inside of her lip, her eyebrows drawn, a complete reversal of the cajoling and light-hearted mood she sported in the safety of her own bedroom. Surrounded by the constant gazes of her parents, Zoe shrinks into herself, both becoming more quiet and more loud simultaneously, a lack of desire to be here mixed with a simmering anger Evan doesn’t quite understand. “The only time I ever saw you two together was when he pushed you at school.”

Evan’s knuckles tighten. “I told you that he didn’t-”

“He pushed you?!” Cynthia interrupts, her eyes wide with slowly growing horror.

“Yeah, well, it was-it was all my fault.” This doesn’t seem to soothe Mrs. Murphy, who just pulls back further. “Yeah, yeah, so I tried to-I tried to-to talk to him...at school, and he asked me not to, like-like multiple times beforehand, so it was, it was all my fault, it’s not a big deal or-or anything…”

“Why didn’t he want to see you at school?” Zoe crosses her hands together. 

“Yes, well,” Evan coughs briefly, clasping his hands together to force himself to stop picking at his fingernails. “He didn’t-he didn’t want, want the other kids-he didn’t want _anyone_ to know about...about us.”

“Couldn’t you have just pretended to be friends?” That’s what Zoe and Alana do, Evan abruptly realizes. They are both closeted and yet they speak in school constantly, even work on group project together, hiding their relationship easily behind the mask of a friendship. And Connor? Connor was out, both at school and at home, so the question of why they couldn’t have done the same appears on her face immediately. No one takes Evan into account. “Like, he didn’t have to seem to be your mortal enemy.”

“No-no, no, that’s not-that’s not it at all, it was-he only ever pushed me the one time, it was just, it was my fault, it’s not...um...he didn’t really… He didn’t really want anyone to think-to think that we were even just friends, either.” His voice turns up at the end, as though it’s a question, constantly asking and begging for approval.

Larry still remains silent, but his wife intervenes. “Why wouldn’t he want anyone to know that you two were friends?”

“Um, I guess he-I guess he didn’t…” Why did Jared tell him to stop talking to him in school that one day, why did Alana try to weasel out of doing a group project with him, why does anyone do anything to Evan? “Because he didn’t want-because I’m...you know.” _You stutter and you’re awkward and you can’t hold a conversation and even your own Mom wants to get away from you, and you’re unlikeable and unattractive and because they’re embarrassed._ That word reverberates through his mind. _Embarrassed, embarrassed, embarrassed…_

“Because you’re…” Cynthia says. And it’s sweet, it really is, how she pretends not to know.

“Because he was embarrassed, I guess, you know, because I’m a…”

“A nerd,” Zoe supplies helpfully, not particularly unkindly but not in a way that makes Evan feel supported.

“I was gonna say-I was gonna say a loser, but nerd works too,” he huffs, glancing around. He catches Larry’s eye for a millisecond, before the older man looks away, his knuckles white. Evan blinks. Larry had been so kind that first meeting, walking Evan out, telling him kind nothings, and now he seems to be unable to bare to be in the same room as him.

“That isn’t-that wasn’t very nice of him,” Cynthia says, taking a sip of cold iced water.

Zoe rolls her eyes, “Well, Connor wasn’t a nice person, so that makes sense.”

“Hey.” It’s the first time Larry has spoken all evening, other than the occasional conformational or inquisitorial noise. It’s stern, though, rough, with an edge to it.

“What?” provokes Zoe, a single eyebrow raised skeptically. “So it’s okay when you bad-mouth Connor, but as soon as I do, suddenly it’s the worst thing ever?”

Before Mr. Murphy can retort, his wife lays her hands down, silently regaining control of the table. Evan gets whiplash watching a wordless conversation spread between the entire family, quick as wildfire. Then, after what seems like hours but it most likely only twenty seconds, Cynthia returns to face Evan, a fragile and false smile across her features. “Well, thank you, Evan, for sharing that with us all, I know we appreciate it.”

“How did you stand it?” Zoe blurts out, leaning forward over the tabletop, intently staring into Evan’s very soul. “How did you stand it?” she repeats. “I lived with him for sixteen years and wanted to throttle him half the time, but I can’t imagine _dating_ him…”

Cynthia sighs the long-suffering sigh of someone who really does not want to fight right now but whose resolve is slowly beginning to fray around the edges. 

“It wasn’t-it wasn’t like that, though.” Evan’s voice is soft, slightly higher-pitched than normal, firm yet not confrontational. “It was...he was my best friend.” He thinks of Connor approaching him later that day, after the now-infamous pushing situation, in the computer lab. How Connor spoke to him first, how he starting a conversation, how he seemed to want to do more. How Connor’s breath felt across Evan’s cheek when he signed Evan’s cast, how his fingertips slid down the plaster and even brushed Evan’s knuckles as he pulled away. How low and smooth his voice was, how he smiled, _“Now we can both pretend to have friends.”_

Cynthia nods slowly, but Zoe still regards him with scepticism, so Evan continues hurriedly. “We first talked last year, um...towards-around December, I think? And for a few months we just talked, just brief things, like, ‘Hey’--you know--‘how are you.’ And that was just little things, sometimes, um...sometimes in the computer lab, after-after school, because no one-because no one was ever there, so it wasn’t…”

“And then, um, he asked for my email, since my-my cell phone doesn’t really-it’s kinda strange and doesn’t work all the time, so we couldn’t text, right, during the last week of-of junior year, before summer break. And I thought,” Evan chuckles, his mind racing on and on and on and suddenly this all seems so real, too real. “Well, I thought that it was a joke, you know, that he-that he was just asking to-to be nice, because I was, you know, that kid without the yearbook ‘cause they’re like 50 dollars and who no one was talking to, so…”

Evan glances around, but he is strangely met with nods of encouragement, to keep going, keep talking, so he does what they want, he always does what they want. “And I didn’t expect to hear from him, not-not at all, but he did. Connor did, like a week-a week or so after school ended, June-ish, and-and he came over to my house, then, and I was-I was petrified, because I didn’t know-I didn’t know why he was doing what he was doing or what, but… But we just-talked, and he...listened, and it was the first time anyone’d listened to me in-in months, like really listened, and maybe it was the same for him, I feel like it was the same for him. And-and he ended up coming back, and coming back, and…” Evan breathes slowly, his mouth moving faster than his brain.

“And I knew, I knew that I was-that I didn’t… That, I mean, I figured out-I figured out later that-that a lot of that time was...was us going on dates, but then it just… And then he took me to the orchard, I told you, Autumn Smiles, and he just talked the whole way there--it was the most I’d ever heard him speak, ‘cause he’s not much-I ramble, but he-he thinks m-more, I think, and… I was watching him and he was watching the road and we got there, and you should’ve-you should’ve seen his face, when he found out that it was...closed, just-but I said-I said that we should go and-well not trespass, obviously, but maybe check out some of the trees in the area, ‘cause I had-I had studied-when I was a Junior Park Ranger, I had, um, worked with trees, so…” Evan gestures vaguely, feeling tension creep up his limbs. 

“So we climbed one, and I followed him, I always followed him, and we went up and up and up and the sun-the sun was setting in the distance and it was just...so beautiful, and everything was so perfect and I...lost my footing, I didn’t get a good enough hold on-on one of the branches? So I fell.” He swallows thickly, unsure of where these words are coming, a continuous flow. He doesn’t think of all the lies he’s telling, doesn’t think of all these falsehoods, he only thinks of Mrs. Murphy’s open face, of her grateful eyes, of the fact that maybe-just maybe, maybe he’s helping them? Maybe they need this as much as him?

“And he took me to the hospital, and after I got it all fixed...up, he-he talked about how-how scared he was-about how he could’ve-how something worse could’ve happened, you know? And-and he said-he said that I wasn’t alone, and that he was there for me, and-and we were outside of my house after I-after I got discharged and he...kissed me, and-and after that our...dates were...dates, and it was... He was my best friend.” 

When he looks up, Mrs. Murphy has a table napkin pressed against her cheeks, as she breathes in and out deeply. Zoe is staring at Evan still, but her expression has softened, loosening, opening with a trust-a trust Evan doesn’t deserve. Larry, too, holds his wife’s hand, squeezing it rhythmically, swallowing a few times and looking somewhere left of Evan’s head.

Evan Hansen should be guilty, he knows he should be. He’s lying and deceitful and he’s sick, manipulating other people for-for whom? For himself? For the Murphy’s? Who’s benefiting from this all? Is it him, just playing out all his deepest wishes in front of the world, terrified of admitting what he wants yet yearning for it more than life itself all the same. He can hear Connor’s voice reverberating through his skull, can see Connor everywhere, in this household, in the school. And it's too late to turn back now. He sees another boy, a boy he could’ve been, and he’s in too deep, isn’t he? Much, much too deep. But as he looks around the table at the teary faces of this family, this tight family, a family, sure, that has some cracks, but what family doesn’t? He’s selfish, so selfish. _“You want this…”_ A voice echoes in his head, a voice that sounds disturbingly familiar to Connor. _“You’ve always wanted this… And it’s okay to want it…”_ Evan blinks rapidly.

He nods, running his bottom lip between his teeth. And he says it again, those five little words he can’t overcome, can’t give up, “He was my best friend.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> there it is!!! more descriptions of Evan's Slight Issue (he's making things up again)!!! and up next: some Things Go Down. also, Jared and Alana....! thank you so much for reading and if you have any suggestions, opinions, or requests for other writing pieces or future chapters, just comment down below, it only takes a few seconds and means the world to me! thank youuuuuu! happy march!


	8. The Phone Call

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can hear his heart begin to pound, bang bang bang against the walls of his chest. “Dad?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhh, here I am, back again with an eighth chapter. I can't believe the response to this, and I love you all and hope you enjoy!

Evan is stepping out of the Murphy household when his phone begins to ring, loudly, persistently. Normally, what with school, his cell-phone is turned on vibrate, but apparently not. Jared’s voice rings in his head, _“You and your weird, off-brand cellphone.”_ He stares at it dumbly for a few moments, contemplating just how weird and off-brand it truly is, before truly comprehending the ringing noise before him. 

He goes to check the caller identification, but a scroll of numbers just appears across his screen, meaningless. He pauses again. _What if it’s your Mom, calling from a hospital, because she got sick or fell down the stairs, or what if-what if she found out about everything, about how you’ve been lying and she wants to yell at you, or what if it’s Jared and he changed his number or maybe-but what if it’s just the pharmacy telling you about refills or some delivery company and they don’t even need you to pick up the phone, what if-_

The ringing stops, and he breathes out a sigh of relief, continuing down the steps and walking down the street, maneuvering around the chiseled sidewalks and wilting grass. The night is quiet, colder than nights previous, but not unbearable. He continues onward until his phone rings again, startling. The pharmacy never calls twice, just leaves a vague and bored message. 

He breathes deeply, looking back at the Murphy household. 

He doesn’t like talking on the phone. 

Slowly, he answers, waiting for someone to speak first.

“Hello?” It’s a gruff voice, one Evan doesn’t immediately recognize.

“H-hello,” Evan responds, cautiously, turning the corner onto a main road.

A grateful sigh emanates from the caller, “Evan.”

Hesitating, he replies. “Yes?”

“Man, am I glad to hear from you. How have you been?”

And it hits Evan, all at once, like a tsunami of cold, debris-filled water, smashing into his body, which jerks to a sudden halt. He can hear his heart begin to pound, bang bang bang against the walls of his chest. “Dad?”

A chuckle. “Yeah, did you not…?”

“I didn’t-my phone’s memory was-was erased a little while ago, and I haven’t-haven’t updated my contacts, so I didn’t-I didn’t…” What he means is that six months ago, he accidentally dropped the phone, a terrifying moment, a horrible moment, into a puddle walking home from school--which Jared deemed as one of the “saddest freaking things I’ve ever seen”--and it hasn’t been the same since, but his Dad hasn’t called him since then either, so he’s had no reason to update or establish this new contact.

A laugh again, as though Evan’s stuttering, as though his confusion, is something amusing. “Well?” At the utter lack of response from Evan, the man continues, “How have you been?”

_Well I’ve just got back from a two-hour lying session to this family that seems so lovely but I don’t know and I’m just telling them all about my secret gay love affair with their severely depressed and now deceased son that never happened, and my one consistent and possible friendship is probably gone because he kissed me and I don’t know why but he did and now he’s avoiding me and did I do something wrong, did I not respond the right way? And you would probably hate me for saying that, for doing that, because you just want me to be-who do you want me to be?_

 _And Alana is there, too, but I always feel so mediocre around her, because she’s struggling but succeeding and pushing onwards while I’m drowning and Mom probably hates me because I’m-because I don’t know what I’m doing with my life and I’m still furious with you for leaving us. I get you leaving me, but I don’t understand leaving her, and I never will._

“I’m fine,” he says. 

“That’s great, son. Any clubs, or extracurriculars?”

“No-no, not-not really? I’m-”

“Your Mom said that you were gonna get more involved this year?”

Evan freezes. “When did you talk to her?” 

“Oh, we email, you know.” The irony. 

Another chuckle, as though he’s explaining something painfully simple to a young child, as though he’s telling Evan how to tie his shoes for the four hundredth time. “You’re still a minor, Evan, I--legally--still have to pay child support. We email about that.”

“Oh. Okay. I just-” _thought she never wanted to see or talk to you ever again, not as long as she lives, not as long as I live, nothing, never, I don’t want to see or talk to you ever again either and yet here I am, playing along._

He begins to grind his teeth together, slowly, methodically, as though the constant rhythm and slight pain will somehow ground him, somehow distract him from his father’s patronizing tone, and from the fact that he always gets away with it.

“Evan, you gotta put yourself out there! It’s senior year, you need to build a resume, start applying to college. Have you taken the SAT or ACT yet?”

“I don’t… There was a-a school-sponsored test last year, and-” Eighty dollars for a ridiculous test is something he’ll never understand.

“And? How did you do?”

“Okay.” Average. He’s average, everything in his life is average. He’s averagely smart and average-looking-ish with average grades but a below-average personality.

“Any specifics? Come on, bud, I’m just trying to-” Evan seizes suddenly, stopping on the street and clenching his eyes tight together and digging his thumbnail into the flesh of the palm of his hand.

“I’m sorry,” he whispers, not expecting a response.

There isn’t one.

He stands in silence, picking at the edges of his fingernails and listening to his father’s breathing. It’s a power game, Evan knows this, that’s all it is. _He wants you to prove that you want to talk to him, he wants you to prove that you need this more than him, that you’ll bow down and let him walk all over you, that you won’t hang up or talk back, that you’ll just keep on apologizing and apologizing._

Evan waits for a few more seconds before his will breaks, just as a fierce heat spreads over his fact, “I can send you my scores later tonight, the exact ones. I’ll do it as soon as I get home.” He squeezes his eyes shut, trying to press out the voice that keeps calling him spineless.

“Good.” And there’s a smile in that voice, a celebration of another success. _This is such bullshit,_ Evan thinks, because he knows it, he does, he truly knows it, he just doesn’t say anything he thinks. He never says anything.

“Yeah,” he murmurs, quietly.

“So, ‘as soon as you get home’? Where are you now?” Evan’s father is not a cold man, not by first glance, not in any obvious ways. He is decently tall with a slim build, dark brown hair and dark eyes, though maybe he’s beginning to go gray by now. Evan stares ahead at the concrete floor, at the cracks in the facade. He realizes numbly that he doesn’t even know what his father’s job is.

“I’m walking-I’m outside, I just-I was at a friend’s house.” He isn’t some comic book villain, Evan’s father. Evan only has glimpses of what he was like while they were still one family, all together under the same roof, flashes of things he’s not sure ever actually happened, or if he just made them up to fill in all the blank holes. But even if he isn't some comic book villain, Evan has no idea what he actually is.

“A friend?”

“Yeah, from-from school, I’m helping her...with a Spanish project.” 

“Oh? Is she your...girlfriend?” 

“No, no! Just. Spanish partners.” He bites his tongue and tries not to feel guilty, not to worry about lying to this man, this person, this-

“Well, if you do, Hann and I would love to meet her.” Right. Hannelle. His father’s new wife. Jon and Hannelle. He met her once, just once, for the first time at the wedding. She was so young, so kind and confusing and...so naive.

“Yeah, of course, of course, Jon, I’ll-”

“‘Jon?’” the man questions lowly, and suddenly Evan remembers his father’s preference for “Dad,” how Evan wasn’t allowed to ever call him by his first name, how he didn’t even know his first name until after his left, Evan doesn’t know why, he never knew why, it just was a rule, unexplained.

“No, it’s just-Mom told me, not to...” _call you “Dad” because you’re not my father, not in any of the ways that truly count,_ “To just call you ‘Jon,’ you know, just, I’m older now, so-”

“That stupid bitch!”

Evan freezes, his ears roaring. Anger rushes through his body faster than ever before, but it’s quickly outweighed by fear, torrents and torrents of fear, a fear of what he doesn’t know, and he's cowering. “Please don’t, it’s all-it’s all my fault, she never-”

“I’m not a bad guy, Evan. I’m not. I didn’t just...abandon you, you know that.”

“I do, I know that, I’m sorry-” He blinks rapidly, walking a little faster and faster.

“I’m a good guy, okay? And your Mom’s a wonderful woman, it’s just...every time I talk to you, it’s like she spent the last six months filling your brain with this-this _propaganda_ of how horrible I am!”

“No, she doesn’t, she’s never-”

“It’s like she doesn’t even want you to think I’m your father. I raised you, right alongside her, and what, she just wants you to think of me as some man, some guy you don’t even know?”

Evan’s head is starting to pound, blood churning to his clenching hands. “Well, I really don’t-”

“And it’s like you never want to talk to me anymore…”

And suddenly he breaks, his container shatters. “What if-what if maybe you called more than--I don’t know--more than every six months, huh? What about that?” Evan’s breathing faster and faster, a hand pressed down onto his heart to try and calm it. “What about that?” he repeats weakly. He can hear shuffling on the other side of the line, but he doesn’t get a response. “Why do you talk _complete fucking shit_ about the one person, the one person that actually raised me, the one person that...and-why don’t you ever come up here, instead of-instead of forcing me to visit you, why don’t you contact me? If you want me to-if you want me to say-to see you as my Dad, why don’t-why don’t you act like one!” 

He’s still stumbling over words, still not raising his voice, but it’s all coming and coming and he’s so angry and his entire body aches. “Why don’t you act like I’m more than-than an afterthought to you?”

“You’re not an afterthought, Evan.”

He wilts, suddenly, all of his energy deflating as angry tears prick at the corners of his eyes and begin to fall. Every. Single. Time. He knows he’s supposed to apologize now, apologize for even thinking something like that, let alone saying it. He’s supposed to thank his father for saying something like that, for actually acknowledging him as a human being.

“Evan, please, stop...stop crying…”

“I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I’m-”

“Come on, Ev, there’s no need for this, just…”

“I’m sorry, I-I have to go.”

“Come on, just-”

Evan hangs up, and he hates himself both more and less simultaneously.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welp. That's that. There's a lot of complex and contradictory emotions going on her, and multiple aspects and sides of a single person. And I don't think I've ever actually heard Evan swear other than maybe "hell"--or even Ben Platt actually cause that boy let me tell you. But Evan's angry and disjointed and angry and sad at the same time?
> 
> I had a really difficult time characterizing Evan's father as a realistic multidimensional person--which my own Mom decided was named "Jon," which I really like--and I'm probably gonna flesh out his character more and the specifics of his relationship with Evan, but I absolutely love love love love any and all headcanons y'all have! Just share 'em below and I'll try to incorporate them!
> 
> Anyway, comments are the only things that keep me going, and I love them all so much, and I adore absolutely any feedback, reviews, opinions, or suggestions. All the love.


	9. Tell Me If You Need Anything

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> He can’t go to Jared’s. He can’t go home. He can’t-there’s no one left for him for him to go to, nothing, there’s isn’t anyone anymore.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you all so much for all the positive feedback from last chapter, and I hope you enjoy this one as well! I promise some happier times are coming!

He can’t go to Jared’s. He can’t go home. He can’t-there’s no one left for him for him to go to, nothing, there’s isn’t anyone anymore. Was there ever anyone to begin with? No, no one is there for him, not ever, and he’s walking and walking and walking and trying to breathe, trying to breathe, trying so hard to breathe. And he’s alone on the street, walking and walking and suddenly there’s a voice calling to him, calling calling calling calling, who is it?

“Evan? Oh my God, Evan!”

He numbly feels his knees hit the ground, his brain oxygen-deprived. He can’t move his fingertips. There’s a hand on his back, turning him over, and he tries to push away, to get away, but he can’t. He can’t do anything.

“Evan, can you hear me?” Nothing. “Evan, can you breathe for me? Just in...out...in...out…. Evan, please, please, I’m sorry, please just, just follow my breathing, can you, please, for me?”

He blinks rapidly, forcing air into his lungs. “Evan, that’s perfect, Evan, that’s wonderful, just keep breathing, keep breathing, you’re safe, please.” 

He tries to force himself onto his hands, pushing up up up up up. And, he murmurs, “Stop-” He pulls away from the touch, sliding away, far away, pulling up on his hands and knees. 

“Okay, okay,” and the hands pull away. “I’m not touching you anymore, but I’m still here.”

Evan swallows, his heart racing slightly less. He stares ahead, digging his hands into the dirt beneath. “Hello?” he murmurs.

“It’s Alana, Evan. I’m here.”

“Alana?” he whispers. His brain is still stilted.

“I was grabbing my things from the car, and I saw you out here. Are you okay? What happened?”

Evan swallows again. “My dad…”

That certainly gets her attention. “What? Your dad? Evan, I thought…” 

“Wh-what?” he whispers, and blinks some more. Slowly, the world comes into focus. He continues to breathe as a mixture of his therapist’s voice and Alana’s voice ring through his head.

He hears her breathing. “Can I touch you now?”

Alana takes his silence as a confirmation. She wraps her arms under his, pulling him swiftly up onto his feet. Alana huffs quietly, “Are you eating enough, Evan? You feel-”

“I’m tired,” he whispers again, and it’s a sudden, all-consuming exhaustion, along with a sudden, all-consuming awareness. “I’m so sorry, I-” and he pulls back, away, stumbling on his feet. “I didn’t-I didn’t know you were here, I’m sorry, I-didn’t mean to-to inconvenience you, I’m-”

“You’re not an inconvenience,” she responds, and Evan’s knees buckle beneath him. Alana catches him, luckily, and a delirious part of his mind realizes that she’s only about an inch shorter than he is. 

And then he starts to cry, or rather continues to cry, but suddenly the cries are now racking his body, and he’s shaking-and she’s hugging him, Alana’s hugging him. How long has it been since someone hugged him? How long has it been since he hugged someone back?

He clutches her to him, suddenly, and it’s like he’s feeling everything, everything he’s pushed down for the past few months. It’s Connor’s death, Connor’s suicide, Connor’s body in that casket, that black clothing at his funeral, the red rings around everyone’s eyes, his mother asking him about his pills, his mother working late and being so tired, and it’s Zoe, Zoe losing her brother and the Murphy’s losing their son, and it’s Jared kissing him and then running away, and it’s him at the age of seven, being left alone, all alone, and all of his doubts and faults and it’s everything, it’s all of it, all of the lies he’s told and continued to tell, he’s falling apart piece by piece.

“I’m so sorry,” he repeats into Alana’s shoulder, and he’s probably ruining her shirt with his tears. “I’m so sorry, Alana, I’m so sorry, I’ve been a horrible friend, I _am_ horrible friend, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t, I’m sorry.”

Alana’s hands weave through his hair and tighten. "You don’t have to apologize.”

“I do though, I do, I’ve ruined everything...everything.”

“Evan…”

“I’m sorry,” he sobs, and he's shaking his head back and forth and back and forth.

“Evan-” and she sounds like she’s on the verge of tears, too, and he’s so sorry, she can’t know how sorry he is. “Evan, I’m going to take you into my house, is that okay?”

“I’m sorry.” He doesn’t know what else to say, but then he’s being lead away, up a set of stairs, through a doorway.

He stares down as his feet move, trying to resist the urge to close his eyes and never open them back up again. 

It’s too much. He doesn’t deserve any of this. 

Alana’s father appears in the hallway. “Alana? What’s going-Evan? Evan, are you alright?”

He knows he must look like a mess, with tear tracks trailing down his face, with his nose running messily, with the knees of his nice beige pants covered in dirt and grass. He wipes hurriedly at his face with the back of his hands, trying to straighten his hair.

Alana exchanges a few meaningful looks with her father, an entire conversation told in a few expressions. “Son,” and he places a hand on Evan’s upper arm. Evan suppresses a flinch. “Just…” he looks to his daughter. “Tell me if you need anything.”

“Of course,” Alana nods. “I’ll bring him up to my room, and…” She never finishes the sentence, just starts to lead Evan away, but he halts abruptly, turning to Alana’s father.

He breathes roughly through his teeth. “I apologize, Mr. Beck, I don’t mean to be a disturbance.”

“It’s quite alright, just...be safe.” Evan can sense Mr. Beck’s eyes on his cast, on that scrawling name, on the emboldened CONNOR, and Evan knows what he’s thinking. 

Suddenly, Evan wants to thank him, to reach out and say that he’s a wonderful parent, that he’s so good and that Alana must be so grateful, that Evan would die for a father like him, that he’s doing a great job, all of these things that Evan can never say, so he just nods. He just nods and follows Alana upstairs to her room.

She turns on one of the lights, leaving a pale glow over the room, and leads him to the floor. Evan stretches out, his back against the soft carpet, his head knocking against the ground. “Do you…” Alana starts as she lays down next to him. Evan hasn’t appreciated Alana enough, not at all. Sure, sometimes she seems withdrawn and preoccupied and judgemental, but-but maybe that’s all Evan’s fault, maybe he’s just misinterpreting her, maybe...? She is nice, she is, truly nice, and she’s so driven, so focused, and- “Do you want me to call Jared? He’s usually helpful when you have panic attacks, right?”

Evan shakes his head rapidly, trying to hide a teary grimace, “No, he’s... He hates me when I’m like this-”

Alana protests, “That’s not true.”

“It is, though. It is. All he does is say how-how much I’m overreacting, how I should just get myself together. All he does is offer me a-a paper bag, like that’ll-like that’ll solve all my problems. Jared doesn’t-and besides, we’re not-we’re not really speaking right now, anyway, so.”

“You’re not-what happened?” Alana rolls onto her side to try and meet Evan’s eye.

He’s so tired of lying. He doesn’t want to lie anymore.

Evan swallows, closing his eyes, trying to limit all of this stimulation. “He kissed me.”

Alana bolts upright, astonishment clear across her face. “He--Jared-- _he_ kissed you?!”

“Yeah,” Evan confirms weakly.

“I didn’t know he-”

“Me neither.”

“And did you…”

Evan makes a pathetic attempt at a shrug, but he’s still crying a little bit and can’t really pull it off. “I don’t know.” He sniffs. “He’s not talking to me anymore, he's been avoiding me, and I’m…”

Alana’s expression hardens, “I’ll talk to him.”

“No!” Evan springs upwards, his head throbbing. “Please, don’t, I don’t want him to be more angry with me than he already is, I-please.”

Alana wilts a little, “Okay, I won’t. But-but you have to, you have to, at some point, okay?”

Evan doesn’t want to argue, he never wants to argue, but his chest aches so much. “Can you just-can you please-I’m-”

“I didn’t know your father still contacted you.”

Evan clears his throat meekly, trying to process the change in conversation. “Normally he doesn’t. I don’t know why he did today, but he just, he said some things, and I-well I _freaked out,_ like I always do, and-” He squeezes his eyes together and digs his fingernails into his palm, trying to stop his train of self-loathing.

“It’s fine. Whatever it is...it’s fine,” she murmurs reassuringly.

“Thank you,” he whispers. “I feel like I haven’t thanked you enough, for being here, for-”

“I feel like I haven’t been here, though, not really, not truly. I’ve been so busy with school and everything…”

“You’re here now, even when I didn’t ask you to be, and that’s-” he stops. He blinks. “Just...thank you.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's....ALANA! She's here after much waiting. So, my inbox is open for deh fanfic prompts, so come find me [@neglectedrainbow](http://neglectedrainbow.tumblr.com/)
> 
> also I've recently published another fic, about Alana and Zoe, and you can find it here: [How Beautiful You Are](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10359126)
> 
> comments are my lifeblood, and I adore each and every one of them! they're my inspiration to continue writing!
> 
> thank you all so much for reading! <3


	10. Dreaming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Heidi puts down the phone, clenching her fists. “You don’t have to tell me everything, Evan. But if you-if you want to, you know that I’m here, right? I’m always here, all the time, and even if I’m not here here, I’m just a phone call away, or a text, or an email. Always. So if you, if you’re feeling like that, like this again, just...tell me, please.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is! protective!heidi is here. hope you enjoy! tw: suicidal thoughts, disordered eating, thoughts of self-harm, issues of consent, ableist slur! please be careful!
> 
> this is a bit of a rollercoaster, writing-wise, but it's supposed to reflect Evan's haphazard thought process. also he's suppressing some thoughts and emotions (read: a lot of thoughts and emotions) so that's coming out through his subconscious in ways that aren't really helpful?

Evan hasn’t seen Jared in over two weeks, and he doesn’t know what to do. He’s getting worse and worse and he doesn’t know how to stop it. Alana helped, she really did, but she’s just so busy, what with her girlfriend and homework and extracurriculars, unlike Evan, who just sits on his bed, scrolling and scrolling through news articles and trying to summon the energy to do anything else.

Taco Tuesday with his mother was a complete failure, he’ll admit. She forgot all about it--and he doesn’t blame her, really, he doesn’t, because he knows he’s forgettable and that he isn’t that important, but it still hurt, even if he isn’t willing to admit it.

Also, his therapist referred him to a new psychiatrist because she said that his new medication obviously isn’t working, but he doesn’t want to try any new medications. None of them have worked and he’s starting to hate it all. Now, therapy just reminds him of everything he’s doing wrong. 

He’s stopped crying because he can’t feel anything anymore.

He’s just so fucking lonely. _“As long as you’re living your trust internally, I think that’s okay,” Zoe nods._ But it isn’t okay, because he’s not being honest, not to himself, not to Dr. Sherman, not to his own parents, not to anyone.

He saw Jared in the hallway about two days ago. Jared was walking to lunch with these two other kids, and they were all laughing. Evan thinks they’re part of the Gaming Club with Jared, and they were laughing so much, smiling, and Jared looked happier than he ever did with Evan. Jared caught his eye and then looked away, and it almost hurt more than if Jared ignored him completely. 

_Jared’s teeth are bared. “Maybe you’re my only friend, huh? Maybe that’s why I’m so fucking depressed all the time?”_ Evan remembers asking him if that was a lie, remembers Jared scramble to defend himself, but now, seeing his eyes swivel away from Evan and back to his laughing friends, Evan knows it was a lie. All of it.

Evan goes to the library because he’s too panicked to sit in the lunchroom, surrounding my loud voices and the scrapping of silverware against plates. He sits huddled at a table, his head down. He doesn’t touch his lunch, not eating a thing.

After he left Alana’s house over a week ago, his Dad hasn’t contacted him once, not once, not even to check to make sure Evan didn’t completely panic and throw a fit after the phonecall, which he did. And Heidi’s on call this week, so she hasn’t been home, not at all. Evan’s stayed up to see her a few times, but she always looks so exhausted that he can’t bring himself to bother her. 

Evan walks home, slowly, ignoring the black that starts to appear at the edges of his vision. He writes a letter to himself, trying to suppress the thought that these letters ruined everything, ruined his animosity, his truthfulness, his good. He can’t stop that thought once it takes root, though, and it quickly heightens and heightens through his body. He doesn’t have the control he normally has. His actual thoughts are rushing out, not the ones he wants Dr. Sherman to think he has, but rather the ones that could get him sent far, far away.

\--------

He hasn’t seen Jared--truly _seen_ him--in three weeks now, and he doesn’t know what to do.

He writes more letters to himself rather than do his homework, rather than try at anything. His mind keeps on playing conversations from weeks, months, and years ago, over and over and over, in his head. _“That’s just the saddest fucking thing I’ve ever heard,” Connor says, before reaching out a hand to sign Evan’s cast, and their fingertips brush together as Evan hands him the Sharpie._

Evan writes and writes and maybe he never stops.

He has a dream about Connor that night. He doesn't know why, doesn't know what's happening in his mind anymore. 

_The long-haired boy stands above him, yelling down at Evan with cruelty in his brown, dark eyes. Evan can’t quite understand the words themselves, but he can hear the tone, the pure anger, the hatred, the fear._

_Then, a moment later, Connor’s face changes completely, softening around the edges with a smile in his eyes and on his lips. Connor reaches out a hand with a kind of pure kindness unknown to Evan and pulls Evan onto his feet softly, gently, sweetly._

_They embrace, Connor’s arms wrapping around Evan’s body, tugging him in until they’re chest-to-chest. Connor pulls Evan with him, and suddenly, magically, he’s laying Evan onto a bed, Connor’s bed, pushing Evan back into the mattress. Then he’s kissing Evan, swiping his tongue across Evan’s lower lip until his mouth parts, pushing up into the movement, into the wet heat._

_All at once, the harshness is back; Evan’s entirety fills with whiplash as Connor threads his fingers through Evan’s hair and yanks, forcefully separating their lips as Evan pants, trying desperately to figure out what’s going on. Connor’s other hand slides down Evan’s chest, tugging at the button on his pants._

_“I’m not the freak,” Connor whispers softly, nipping carefully at Evan’s ear. “You’re the fucking freak.”_

Evan springs awake, gasping in quick lungfuls of air. He presses a hand into his chest, gasping helplessly. He feels sick, his throat filling with bile.

He can’t do this anymore.

Rushing to the nearest bathroom, Evan heaves a few times into the toilet, but there’s nothing in his stomach for him to throw up. He collapses back against the tile wall, digging his nails into his palms until he can focus on that pain instead, that physical ache instead of the pure mental exhaustion seeping through his brain.

A light flickers on in the hallway, followed by quick footsteps. He doesn’t make any move to organize himself, just continues sitting there, on the ground, his head tucked between his knees.

“Evan…” Heidi kneels down next to him, dressed in her pajamas. She doesn’t mention the time, or that he woke her up, just lays a hand on the floor next to him, an offering. She has learned to check before touching him in situations like these, fearful of making it all worse. He takes a deep breath and moves his hand, placing it softly over hers. She instantly turns her hand over, threading her fingers between his and squeezing tightly. “Evan, sweetie…”

“I’m sorry for waking you up,” he murmurs. He’s momentarily taken aback by the pure gravelly quality of his voice, scratching and rough.

“It’s fine, honey,” she replies, squeezing his hand tighter. She pauses. “Do you want to stay here, or can I help you up?”

He moves onto his hands and knees, trying to force a smile, “I can get up, it’s fine.” He stumbles to his feet, roughly, with his mother’s steadying hand on his back. She leads him to the living room, where they both sit down on the couch. He can feel her eyes on him, feel her desire to ask, “What happened?” 

He answers the unasked question, “Jared…” he coughs slightly. “It’s everything, Mom. Everything.”

Her eyes instantly harden, “Jared? What did he do? I know you two haven’t...you haven’t been over to his house in a while, and I…” She trails off, her eyebrows raised, moving closer to her son.

Evan laughs meekly, but the sound contains no joy. “We haven’t-he hasn’t said a word to me in over three weeks.”

Heidi reconnects her hand with Evan’s, “Honey, I-”

“I’ve seen him a couple times in the hallways, and he’s just...ignored me completely or-or just...looked away, and I don’t know what to do, because I don’t know how to-I know what I did wrong, of course, I just don’t-I don’t know how to-or if he even wants to-to talk to me anymore-maybe his Mom stopped caring about it, you know, maybe she’s paying for his car insurance either way, and so he doesn’t have a reason to pretend to be friends with me anymore, and that’s fine, I get it, I just wish-I just wish he had-had told me-would tell me-me _anything_. Or just-just say goodbye?”

His mother moves over, trying to meet Evan’s eye. “You’re not making sense, Evan. What about-what about a car insurance?”

“That’s why Jared used to talk to me, to-to-because his Mom said she wouldn’t pay for his car insurance if he didn’t-so-so we were never really friends, and I know that, it’s just-”

Heidi’s shaking her head, firmly, “There’s no way Jared was friends with you for years because of some insurance! Mrs. Kleinman isn’t the type to-”

“That’s what he told me, that’s what he told me, so-” 

Suddenly, his mother stands up, releasing his hand. “I am going to go call that boy. If he thinks he can just-” Evan wants to protest, but the words fall short before they leave his mouth. “It’s Saturday, right?” She checks her watch. “6:30. I thought it was earlier, but Mrs. Kleinman is probably awake by now.” She pauses again, running a soft hand over Evan’s hair. “We’ll figure it out.”

Evan clears his throat, staring out of the window. There’s a small voice in his head, one protesting, telling him to forget it all, to give up. It's starting to sound like Connor.

He blinks a few more times, “Yeah, yeah, we should-I want. Yeah.” He wants to have closure. He wants it to me official, for everything to be over, to give up, to be able to accept being friendless, being crazy, to accept it all.

His mother nods slowly, grabbing her cell phone slowly and dialling. The phone connects rather quickly, “Hello? Yeah, it’s Heidi. I’m with Evan here and-” She pauses, listening to the other line. “Yes, yeah. I’m with Evan, and I was-. Yes, it has been… Three weeks, I think… That’s what I said… Is Jared up? Could you wake him?” Evan wants to protest again, to tell her it’s pointless, all of it, but he’s so tired, too tired.

“Hello, Jared. It’s Mrs. Hansen… I was wondering if Evan could come over, or if you could come over here…?” She pauses, glancing at him briefly. He nods, slowly. She lowers her voice, then, turning away from him, “You know how he is with phones, Jared.” Evan looks down at his feet, trying to ignore the suffocating feeling that spreads through his chest as they talk about him. “I think it would be better if you were to come over here.” She nods slowly. “We’ll see you soon, Jared. Okay. Okay. Goodbye.”

She puts down the phone, clenching her fists. “You don’t have to tell me everything, Evan. But if you-if you want to, you know that I’m here, right? I’m always here, all the time, and even if I’m not here here, I’m just a phone call away, or a text, or an email. Always. So if you, if you’re feeling like that, like this again, just...tell me, please.”

Evan swallows and nods. His brain is quiet, for once. “Yeah.” 

They both sit on the couch until they hear the sound of a car pulling into the driveway. Heidi springs to her feet, but Evan stops her, “I can-I can get it, it’s fine.” She pauses. “I’m sure,” he says, before she asks. “It’s-fine, I’ll just, get it out of the way, you know.”

She nods slowly, but her eyes are skeptical, filled with worry and doubt. 

He gets up, carefully, running a hand over his pajamas and trying to flatten his hair. He probably looks like a mess. Slowly, he makes his way to the door, opening it carefully. There stands Jared, with crooked glasses and haphazard, mismatching clothing. He doesn’t say anything, just stares at Evan, who clears his throat and backs up, making way for Jared to enter the house.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you all for reading! This was originally about 8 pages and I wasn't yet finished, so I split this chapter into two parts. The second one, where Evan and Jared actually talk about their Emotions, will be up ASAP (probably tomorrow). THINGS ARE GOING TO GET BETTER VERY VERY VERY SOON, I PROMISE. Thank you all for reading! 
> 
> Special thanks to everyone who's commented so far, because y'all are what keeps this story going! All the love!
> 
> Also, in the musical, Evan isn't the healthiest person at all, especially when it comes to coping methods. He's shown to skip meals altogether, and exhibits a variety of other unhealthy relationships with food and his body in general (very low self esteem, as well as possibly self-harm tendencies). Because disordered eating and anxiety disorders often show up together, especially in teens, and because I personally have had issues with both in the past, I'm expressing that here. Beware of trigger warnings, and I'll try to include everything possible. If you ever need to talk about anything at all, I'm here 24/7. 
> 
> Evan's thoughts on therapy expressed here are not my own.


	11. We Need to Be Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “So,” Jared starts. “Is this when you tell me I’m a complete and utter dick?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm just going to pretend that I didn't write ~4000 works in less than 24 hours. Oops. If you see that I've updated and haven't read Chapter 10 yet, you should probably check, just in case! Thank you all so much for your support, and a special shout-out to @butnowerestressedout10 and @slaygayponyboy on Tumblr for being so kind and supportive of this fic!

Jared looks around slowly, taking in his surroundings. Evan can count on one hand the times Jared's been to his house. Evan always prefers to go elsewhere--why, though? Maybe he’s embarrassed? He tries not to think about how Jared’s house is at least twice as large as his, how Jared’s room is more than a bed, a table, and a dresser, about how Jared’s house screams, “We have money!” right into his face. He tries not to think about any of those things, but fails miserably.

Heidi places a supportive hand on her son’s back. “How about you two go in Evan’s room and-and talk? I’ll be right out here if-if you need anything, okay? Okay?”

“Okay?” Evan whispers solemnly, before leading Jared over to his bedroom, slowly, carefully. When Jared closes the door behind him, Evan tries to ignore how his heart begins to race.

“Hey,” Jared says, his hands in his pockets.

“Those are the first words you’ve said to me in nearly a month,” Evan croaks, glancing down at his bare feet.

“You look like a mess,” Jared replies, but there’s no cruelty behind the words, just truth.

Evan mouth quirks suddenly, against his better instinct. “So do you.”

“I know.”

“Look-” Jared starts, and the same time Evan begins, “I-”

Both of them stop, waiting for the other to continue. Evan recedes, bowing his head.

“So,” Jared restarts. “Is this when you tell me I’m a complete and utter dick?”

Normally, Evan would laugh and say, “Well, you are,” but he can’t bring himself to do it, to act like everything’s okay. He doesn’t say a word.

“I don’t know why your Mom called me here-”

“You haven’t talked to me in three weeks, Jared. Three weeks. And I’m trying to figure out what I did wrong, and-”

“You didn’t-”

“Did your Mom start paying for your car insurance anyway?”

“What?” Jared looks genuinely confused.

“I said, did you Mom start paying for your car insurance anyway? Is that why you stopped talking to me? Did she start paying it anyway?”

“No, I-”

“I know that was the only reason you started talking to me in the first place, but I’ve apparently gotten deluded enough to think that you actually gave a shit about me, so, I’m sorry, but I would’ve, I would’ve liked to know, before-before you just decided I wasn’t worth it.” Evan breathes in deeply, shifting from foot to foot.

“That’s not what-”

“It’s fine if that's what it is, I just wanna know. You don’t even have to tell me why, because I know that it’s just me, in general, I get that. I just-”

“No, Evan, I’m-” Jared holds up a hand to stop Evan from interrupting him again. “I’m sorry. I am. I’m a complete and utter dick, and it’s all my fault, and I’m sorry.”

“Sorry for what?” Evan blinks, rubbing his hands down the front of his shirt.

“For everything!” Jared says, his voice pitched higher than usual. “For...you know…”

“What?”

“For kissing you,” he hisses, his voice low, refusing to meet Evan’s eyes. “I know that you’re, like, not at all interested, obviously, and I just-I’m sorry. It was-I shouldn’t have kissed you, you obviously didn’t want to, and I’m sorry. I know that I never had a chance with you, it was just wishful thinking. Completely deluded, and that’s my only excuse, but... I’m sorry, I am. For everything.” Jared takes a deep breath, continuing as though he can’t stop. 

“I’m sorry for ever making you think that I only hung out for you because of my car insurance, because-because I was joking when I said that, it wasn’t… I’m not paid to be your friend, I promise, and I’m not lying, not now.” Jared pushes his glasses up his nose. “There’s no reason for you to believe me, but it’s the truth.”

Evan pauses, "I-I accept your apology." 

Jared sits down slowly, pushing his dark hair off of his forehead. “I just figured that it would be easier, that you’d prefer if I just stopped talking to you, ‘cause I know it’s hard for you to say no to people, and I knew that I’d fucked it all up, so I just...thought it be easier if I stopped. So I did.”

Evan freezes, his mind racing. “I didn’t know that-I thought that maybe-that maybe it was...a joke? Or-or-when you-that Monday, I thought maybe you were just...making fun of me?”

That gets Jared’s attention, who stops, his forehead crinkling. “What? What the fuck, Evan?”

“I thought-”

“I can be a dick, Evan, sometimes, but I’m not a fucking psychopath!”

“I didn’t-”

Jared stops, suddenly, pressing his knuckles into his mouth. “I’m sorry,” he murmurs, and his voice is softer than Evan’s ever heard. “I shouldn’t-I interrupt you all the time, and I don’t think I’ve ever apologized for it.” And Jared waits, his eyes flickering up to Evan. 

When Evan doesn’t respond for some time, Jared continues, “I’m sorry I didn’t talk to you for so long, that I ignored you, I was just-fuck, I was scared even, that you’d completely-I don’t know, that I’d ruined our friendship or whatever, completely, forever, that you’d be disgusted or-or, I don’t know.”

Evan shakes his head, “No, I’m-you’re not disgusting, Jared, not at all, I-I was just surprised and-and a bit confused, and preoccupied, maybe, I’ve been-I didn’t think it was possible that you’d...be interested?” His mind is racing, back and forth and all around. Is this actually happening?

The older boy looks down, his cheeks heating up slowly, “Um, I know I don’t-I’ve never shown it very well, at all.”

“I didn’t even think you liked me as a person, as an acquaintance. Your Mom told you to spend time with me because my Mom was worried about me having no friends, so-I thought, I didn’t think there was any chance, of-of anything-anything else?” Evan can’t imagine this, can’t comprehend this, can’t imagine someone, anyone actually liking him. Him? Of all people?

“Yeah, I tried to-” He’s stumbling over his words, something that never happens Jared. “I’m-I don’t want to-you don’t have to do anything, or say anything to me about it, like, I don’t want you to think that you have to, like--fuck, man, just--like date me or something, or else I’ll stop being your friend, ‘cause that’s sick, that’d be just fucking messed up, so I’ll just… Just shut up now… Um…”

“You don’t…” Evan’s hands are clammy and he can feel his face reddening. “You can keep talking, if you want.”

“I don’t-”

“Or not, you don’t have to, I’m just.” It’s nice to hear about being wanted. Evan blinks again, “You’re not lying, at all. Right?”

“100% honest, Ev.”

A smile slowly spreads across his face, carefully, and he swallows. “Good, that’s-I don’t want to lie anymore.”

“Me neither,” Jared looks up at him, and there’s a vulnerability in his features that Evan doesn’t remember ever seeing, a nervousness.

Evan closes his eyes briefly, quietly, biting the inside of his lip. “These past few weeks, Jared, have been-”

“Completely shit,” Jared finishes, sighing.

“Yeah...that.” Evan glances around his room. There’s nothing on the walls, nothing anywhere. A small twin bed, the normally tightly organized blue sheets sprawled unevenly. He walks over to the bedside table, awkwardly staring at the pill bottle sitting there, out in the open. He wasn’t expecting anyone to be in here. Jared follows his gaze, landing on the little orange bottle. “Um…” He doesn’t know what Jared knows about him, about his anxiety, about anything. He normally hides the pill box and he’s never mentioned therapy or his psychiatrist. 

“How have you been?” Jared looks at him.

“I’ve been fine.” Evan stops, clenching his jaw. “No, I’ve been-it’s been...it’s been horrible. I-” He trails off, moving carefully next to Jared on the bed.

“You can tell me.”

Evan flicks his eyes over to Jared, surveying him carefully. He doesn’t see any telltale signs of deception. “I’ve been...seeing things.”

Jared immediately tenses, his eyes boring into Evan. He doesn’t say anything, though, just motions for Evan to continue with surprise across his face. “What-what have you...been seeing?” He doesn’t make fun of Evan, and that’s the most Evan could’ve hoped for, honestly. 

“Connor." He sighs, "At first, he was just in my dreams, and then he was...talking to me, in my head.”

Jared’s face is stunned, but Evan wants everything to be out in the open. He doesn’t want Jared to accept a falsified version of him, a more neurotypical version of him, something false.

“I thought you were getting better, Evan…”

“I am--I’m sorry,” and suddenly the calm confidence that had spread over Evan is gone, suddenly. “I am, I am, I just-it’s just been… I’m sorry, I’m sorry, sorry sorry sorry sorry,” he says the word over and over until it doesn’t sound like a word anymore. Until Jared interrupts him with a hand hovering over his shoulder, not touching, just unsure, but near nonetheless.

“Just? How long have you been...been seeing Connor?”

“Not very long,” Evan hurries to answer, desperately. “Just...a week-two weeks or so?”

Jared closes his eyes, shaking his head slowly. “Shit, Evan…”

“I’m sorry,” Evan lunges forward suddenly, without thought, pressing his forehead into Jared’s leg, just above the knee. He doesn’t touch Jared anywhere else for fear of retaliation. “I’m trying,” he whispers into Jared’s jeans. “I’m trying, please believe me, I am trying, I’m just failing.”

Jared is tense underneath him, unsure and vaguely confused. They’re sitting on the bed and...and Evan’s on his leg, avoiding his eyes. Jared can still hear a faint flow of muffled words from Evan’s mouth, but he can’t make out too many of them, though the constant interjection of “Sorry” is audible.

“Don’t apologize, please.” Jared places a hand on Evan’s head, carefully, slowly. “Just…” He places his hands on Evan’s shoulders, pushing him up and pulling him into a hug.

Jared’s warm and soft against Evan. Slowly, Evan wraps his arms around Jared’s waist, pressing his nose into the other’s skin. “Thank you,” Evan whispers, his lips moving against Jared’s neck. 

“No problem,” Jared replies, trying not to feel so out of his depth. “Look, Evan, I don’t want you to... I don't know what to do.” 

Evan exhales, closing his eyes slowly, and there's the answer, right before him. He makes up his mind. "Kiss me."

He doesn't want to be sad anymore, to be angry and hurt. So, Evan repeats, "Kiss me."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> oooooohhhh! a cliffhanger! oooohhhh! 
> 
> thank you all so much for reading this fic and supporting my writing, I really really do appreciate it! feel free to comment below your thoughts, hopes, opinions, ideas, headcanons, anything really! I read them all, reply to them all, and each and every comment helps me a lot! thank you! also, you can find me on Tumblr at any time, for any reason!


	12. The Past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared remembers his relationship with Evan throughout the years.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is! the next chapter! it's really really long, which is why it took me forever, but I hope you all enjoy it. and! some of Jared's POV!

“No problem,” Jared replies, trying not to feel so out of his depth. “Look, Evan, I don’t want you to... I don't know what to do.”

Evan exhales, closing his eyes slowly, and there's the answer, right before him. He makes up his   
mind. "Kiss me."

He doesn't want to be sad anymore, to be angry and hurt. So, Evan repeats, "Kiss me."

Jared pulls back, moving his entire body away from Evan. “What?”

Evan doesn’t respond, just stares into Jared’s eyes, his own gaze unwavering. He moves forward, cautiously, running his tongue over his bottom lip slowly, a silent “You heard me.”

Jared continues to stare at him, unmoving. Hesitantly, he backs up, “Are you making fun of me?”

The little faux confidence Evan tried to maintain fades quickly, “No, no, I’m-”

“Because I swear, if you are, Hansen, I will-”

“No, no, I’m not, not at all, I just…” Evan reaches forward and grabs Jared’s hand softly between his own. “I’ve really missed you.” He wants Jared to stay, no matter what, wants him to stay here and be with Evan, be Evan’s friend.

“I missed you, too, but I-” Jared’s frown deepens, “don’t want you to be doing anything because you feel like you have to, because-because you don’t have to.”

“No, it’s not…” Evan falters, glancing down at their intertwined hands. “I just really missed you?”

Jared’s face softens, and he brings up one hand to rub at his eyes. “I-”

“I’m not, I just-” the younger boy reaches up and places a hand on Jared’s jaw, turning their eyes to meet. 

A smile breaks across the other’s face, a kind of desperate expression that shows so much more than words can describe. “I’ve thought about-about you since-since seventh grade.” At Evan’s incredulous expression, Jared nods hurriedly. “I did, it was...it was, for a while, I thought that maybe-maybe you felt the same, yeah? But then the whole thing with Zoe happened, and I decided we’d all be better off if I pretended it wasn’t there.”

Evan moves forward again, his heart clenching painfully. He can feel Jared’s breath on the side of his face. “R-really?” He still can’t grasp it, can’t grasp anyone liking him, wanting to be with him, having a crush on him for four years? He keeps his eyes trained on a small freckle on Jared’s cheek. 

The other smiles, and it’s a fond smile, “Yeah, I did.” He turns his face into Evan’s, their breaths intermingling, but their mouths don’t quite touch. 

“Did you?” Evan murmurs again, because he can’t stop himself, he wants to hear it one more time, wants to never stop hearing it, how he’s not a failure, how maybe he can be desirable, how-how maybe everything isn’t horrible.

“I did.” Jared pauses, his dark eyes warm. “I do.”

As soon as the words reach Evan’s ears, he presses into Jared, their lips pushing against each other. Jared sighs into him, his arms curling around Evan’s neck as Evan’s hands rest on Jared’s hips. It’s warm, smooth, sensual, much calmer than their first kiss, movement like ocean waves in the summertime. Jared’s lips are surprisingly soft and careful, like Evan is a small porcelain figurine. 

Evan presses into Jared further, grabbing one of Jared’s hands and leading it to the back of his head. Slowly, the older entwines his fingers through Evan’s locks, slowly leaning back until they’re flush against the mattress. “Evan,” Jared gasps, and kisses him back.  
_________________________________

Jared remembers when he first met Evan, on some summer morning before middle school. Evan had just transferred from another school, after some sort of “incident” that no one ever clarified. Their moms worked together at the hospital, Evan’s as a nurse, Jared’s as a member of the psych ward. They talked and talked and talked and quickly decided that the best course of action would be to set up a meeting for their sons. And they did.

There were some similarities between the two: both of them lived with a single mother, both were going to be sixth-graders in the fall, both were kind of (very) lonely. There were differences, too, though, of course, as Jared’s parents had amicably divorced, choosing to stay in touch with split custody, whereas Evan’s family had been embroiled in one of the worst custody battles of the early 2000s (until, that, is, as Evan always described it, his Dad gave up and decided it-decided _he_ wasn’t worth the effort). 

Their mothers would gather upstairs, discuss politics and salaries and colleagues at work, be altogether boring, as Jared and Evan conjugated downstairs in “the den” and played poorly animated video games. Evan was different than the rest of Jared’s peers; he continuously fidgeted with the hems of his shirts, he flinched whenever anyone approached him unannounced, he couldn’t speak more than a few words to Jared without looking like he wanted to cry.

Soon enough, though, they became more and more comfortable with each other, and Evan started to engage in their conversations, not fully, but more than previously. Jared didn’t understand it, didn’t understand why he fidgeted and flinched and stuttered so much, why some days Evan would only nod along, his eyes trained on Jared’s shoes, refusing to say a word. 

He didn’t understand a lot of things about Evan Hansen. To Jared, he was an enigma wrapped in a mystery wrapped in a striped blue t-shirt. 

Their middle school friendship wasn’t _abnormal_ , per se, but it wasn’t quite normal either.

Jared thought a lot about Evan’s eyes, how in some lights they were green, while in others they were blue. How Evan looked up a Jared with those green or blue eyes between his thick eyelashes. How Evan would touch him, constantly, fingertips running over Jared’s forearm. How if Evan didn’t push his hair down with some sort of gel, it would stick up in loose, buoyant curls. How Evan’s entire body was slightly toned from all of his hiking and walking and climbing trees. 

How Evan would sometimes bite his lips until they turned this stunning red color.

Jared didn’t know what any of these thoughts meant, of course. Not for a while a least. He figured it was perfectly normal to want to talk to and look at and be around his best friend every single day.

Sometimes Evan said that he didn’t know what Jared was getting out of this friendship, but Jared knew. He thought Evan was the smartest, most fascinating person he’d ever met.

Then high school started, and as it always does, everything changed. The school got bigger, fuller, and Evan’s anxiety just got worse--because, by this point, Jared had figured out that that’s what it was.

Jared had always called it just “Evan being Evan” until his mother said him down one evening and told him the official diagnosis.

They spent every weekend together, not particularly doing anything, just being there, together. Jared turned thirteen, had his bar Mitzvah, and was officially a man, in his eyes at least. Evan was a few months behind, but it didn’t really matter.

One day, Jared and Evan took the bus downtown, because they were teenagers now, thank you very much. Jared watched as Evan’s eyes flickered around the vehicle, as his chest began to rise and fall faster and faster. Evan pressed himself next to Jared to ground himself, their sides pressed together entirely, as grabbed onto Jared’s hand with his own, squeezing tightly. Jared felt blood rush through his body. 

So maybe he Googled some stuff later that night and came to the official realization. He liked boys. More specifically, he liked Evan Hansen.

He really tried not to, he truly did. He forced himself to hang out with other people more, with his camp friends, to try and look at girls more, to stop himself from liking the one true friend he’s ever had. 

Nothing worked.

Progressively, he got more and more fed up, and this pit of anger inside of him began to swell and grow until it began to smoke, leaking out of him in a steady stream. Maybe he hated himself a little, but part of him hated Evan more, hated how he made Jared’s heart race, how his every touch made Jared blush, how Evan would occasionally look at Jared with the same adoration in Jared’s eyes, how sometimes _(always)_ when Jared was jerking off, Evan appeared in his mind. 

That pit of anger began to boil, steaming out in his every action, his every reaction. Jared made his Mom drive them downtown rather than take the bus, meaning they didn’t go very often anymore. Whenever they did though, Jared sat in the passenger seat, leaving Evan feet behind him, alone in the back of the car. That must’ve sent a pretty clear message, because soon enough Evan stopped texting him, stopped approaching him in school, stopped initiating anything. 

He waited, waited for Jared to ask, was an entirely passive member of their relationship, and it just made the angry thing inside Jared rage more.

He wanted Evan to fight for their friendship, fight for him, but nothing came. 

Nothing came, until one Friday evening in tenth grade. Evan appeared at Jared’s locker after school, and asked--in one rushed, run-on sentence--if Jared could possibly take him downtown, please, because his Mom told him to pick up some specific kind of Draino because she doesn’t have enough time, and he’s panicking because he couldn’t find it at the supermarket near his house, and she doesn’t have time to pick it up herself, but he checked online and he knows it’s at the one story, and it’s only a ten minute drive maybe, and he would’ve just taken the bus except he only had enough money for the specific kind of Draino, not for the bus fare, and his Mom doesn’t want him taking the bus alone because she’s scared he’ll pass out, and he also would’ve walked, except Google Maps said that he can’t because there’s no sidewalks on the intersection and he can’t get hit by a car, “so please, please, Jared, please, can you help me?”

And Jared looked at the boy in front of him, one who’d never approached him about anything before, and he agreed. Jared’s Mom was still at work, though, so they both boarded the next bus, Jared paying for Evan’s ticket, for which Evan thanked him roughly 247 times. It was more than he’d talked all year, even considering that 80% of the words out of Evan’s mouth were “sorry” or “please” or “thank you.”

They were on the bus for about ten minutes before Evan started breathing really bad, quick, jolting breaths. And he pressed against Jared, pushing their legs against each other. 

And Jared was angry, he was angry that it only took one stupid question and suddenly all his hard work of not being in love with Evan Hansen crumbled into ten thousand pieces. He was angry at himself, but it was much easier to push that anger onto Evan Hansen, who never fights back.

Evan went to grab Jared’s hand, trying to ground himself, but Jared pulled away before he could. He called Evan “pathetic,” saying who in the world can’t handle themselves for like ten minutes on a freaking bus. Evan started to cry. Even though Jared spent the entire rest of the trip apologizing to the other boy, their relationship was never the same after that.

Evan never again liked physical contact during a panic attack.

The rest of their high school friendship followed in a similar pattern. Jared would talk to Evan, and there would be something in Evan’s eyes, something in the way he looked at Jared with more softness than anyone else in the world. Jared would remember how much he wants to push Evan up against the wall and kiss him until neither of them could breathe. Jared would feel guilty and yell at Evan, trying to get the other boy to realize that Jared’s bad news, to stand up for himself for once, to truly end this once and for all. Evan wouldn’t. Sometimes Evan would argue in response, but mostly he wouldn’t. Jared would have some wet dream about Evan, where they’re together and Evan loves him back and Jared isn’t such a mess. And the cycle would start again. 

It never seemed to end.

The thing with Zoe made everything worse. Jared tried furiously not to be so mean, tried to use humor instead to distance himself, but to Evan, he thinks, they were the same thing.

Their Moms would set up a sleepover and Jared would just have internal conflicts the entire time as his mind was bombarded with the thoughts that Evan was the most beautiful, handsome, talented, thoughtful, amazing, resilient, and kind person in the entire world. Jared didn’t deserve Evan, but he didn’t want to let him go.

He thought about kissing Evan every day. 

Until one day he actually did, actually grabbed ahold of Evan’s t-shirt and brought their lips together, but Evan pulled back and he looked horrified and all of Jared’s worst fears were confirmed. His heart shattered and he ran, he ran far and fast, and he tried to get himself out of Evan’s life, tried to leave, because he knew that was the best thing for Evan, for both of them.

Those few weeks without Evan were the worst of his life. He’d never felt more alone, more sad, more horrible.

And now they’re here. Jared was called up, told to come over, and now they’re both sitting on Evan’s bed and-and maybe Evan’s telling him that he wants this, too? That maybe Evan wants this just like he does, that maybe Jared wasn’t delusional. Maybe those moments when Evan would look at Jared with this softness in his eyes were real? Maybe this will come true? Maybe everything will be alright?

So he kisses Evan back, presses into him, and for once he doesn’t feel guilty. 

He doesn’t want to run away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> (So here's the deal.
> 
> Evan has always liked Jared, has thought he can be sweet and funny and is cute. But he isn't at the point of loving him, because he's too embroiled in self-hatred to see any of Jared's positivity. He is confused, primarily, because so much is going on in his life, and now there's this, too? Someone actually liked him back? He is so desperate to not feel so alone that he's striving for a relationship with Jared, even though he's not really ready for it. And Jared has always been in love with Evan, and is very very very reckless and sudden (as most teenagers are) so as soon as he sees an opportunity for them to be together, for him to really be with Evan, which is what he's wanted for ages but has been trying to ignore, he jumps on it. 
> 
> These boys are not in a place where they necessarily should be doing this, but they are. And they're gonna have to deal with that ASAP.)
> 
> Thank you so much for reading, and I wanna hear all your thoughts in the comments below! Thank you so so so so much as always! All the love <3
> 
> //also I stole a line from an MTV article about Harry Styles in here oops//


	13. The Memory

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Jared really should talk about things. They don't. Alana and Zoe do, though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here it is!! there's some ~~sexy times~~ (not really, just making out) in the first part of this, but that ends after the series of dashed lines! some of zoe's perspective, and more discussions of connor!

Jared’s lips are soft, softer than Evan would have imagined, moving against his own smoothly. Evan pulls back to catch his breath, and even as he struggles for air, he feels more alive than ever before. Jared places his hands neatly on Evan’s waist, curling around the bone of his hips, and quickly maneuvers them until he rests above Evan, stroking his hands down Evan’s chest.

One of his legs rest in between each of Evan’s, and he leans down to pepper open-mouthed kisses into Evan’s neck. Slowly, without giving it too much thought, Evan turns his head to the side, allowing for greater access. Jared slowly, softly drags his lower teeth across Evan’s skin, who promptly shivers.

Jared pulls back, his glasses lopsided and his lips red, and Evan pushes upwards onto his elbows to meet Jared’s lips again, and it’s good--so good, Evan never knew kissing could be this fun, this smooth rhythm of lips and tongue. 

They separate for a moment, Jared taking off his glasses and placing them onto the bedside table. “Have you ever…” Evan murmurs, and surprises himself by the roughness of his voice. “Have you ever done this before?”

Jared looks at him slowly. “Yeah,” he nods. “Not like this, though.” He presses a hand into Evan’s chest, right where his heart rests. “Not like this,” he repeats, and a soft smile spreads across his face. He moves in to kiss Evan again, before stopping, realizing something. “Have you?”

“Yeah. Yeah, um, once? Or-twice, but the first time didn’t really count, so…” 

Jared fixes him with a vaguely surprised and confused expression, but clearly decides not to ask any more questions. “Cool,” he responds, as his eyes slowly move over Evan, and there’s a hunger there than Evan never could’ve imagined.

“Yeah, and I… Yeah…” Evan moves upward, and his brain feels fuzzy around the edges. Jared is warm, and they’re moving against each other in a way that he can’t describe. And maybe his heart is racing a little bit too fast, or maybe his head’s getting a bit too clouded, but he rocks upwards into Jared, pushing his thigh into the space between Jared’s legs.

Jared pulls out of the kiss, his eyes squeezed shut, a soft noise escaping his lips. Jared sighs, his face contorted as though these words are physically painful to say: “As much as I really, really, _really_ , want to keep going here, it’s probably...not...the best idea...” 

Evan falls backwards, his head pressing against the pillow. “Yeah, yeah, you’re right, I-my Mom’s just in the other room, I don’t know what I was thinking, um...” A blush begins to spread over his face. “Yeah.” 

Slowly, the older of the two extracts himself from Evan’s body, laying down next to him on the bed.

Jared places his fingertips on Evan’s cheek, turning his head to face Jared. He slowly traces Evan’s full bottom lip, before pulling out of his abrupt trance and returning to Evan. He smiles, across his entire face, and he can’t seem to stop. “I’ve wanted to do that for so fucking long, you have no idea.”

Without thought, Evan nods, his own fingertips tracing the place on his neck where Jared’s mouth was just a few moments ago. He smiles, then, too. His entire body feels warm, and he thinks about how long he’s wanted this: how long he’s wanted to feel wanted, to _be_ wanted.

He rests his head on Jared’s chest. “Well, another time, then.” And though everything is far from perfect, far from good, even, in that moment, Evan feels something he hasn’t felt in a very long time.

\-------------------------------

Zoe stands in Connor’s bedroom--his old bedroom. She wonders if they’ll ever renovate it, ever remove his things. As she stares across the room, she can’t imagine they ever will. Almost nothing has been touched, just a few things that had been thrown across the ground were picked up and placed on various shelves. 

No one has changed the bed sheets.

She doesn’t think anyone has the heart to do it, to remove the last real proof of him. His pile of grey shirts have been put on clothing hangers and now reside neatly in the closet. The tidiness of it all almost makes her gag. Part of her doesn’t think it’s what Connor would’ve wanted, but then again, she never knew what Connor ever wanted, not even when he was alive.

She almost doesn’t want to touch anything, doesn’t want to possibly remove some trace of her brother, but she also wants to be near him again, to feel that he...existed.

Zoe hates using the past tense.

It’s been nearly two months, and yet none of it seems real, not a single part of it. She set a plate for him the other day, at the dinner table. Even when he was alive, he barely came to family dinner with the rest of them, preferring to hide out in his room, but she did it anyway. She couldn’t stop herself.

It all hurts so much, almost too much. Most of what she remembers of her brother is bad, him yelling and freaking out and scaring her and the rest of her family, but...but the more Evan is over, the more he talks and tell stories, the more she remembers the good stuff: picnics at the orchard, walking home from school together, eating ice cream and laughing at their parents. She remembers when they were friends, before Connor got to high school, before everything fell apart.

He was always a little angry as a child, always a little sad too, but it just got worse as he got older, and, sure, she sometimes felt the same things, but not on the same level. Nobody knew how to handle him, and he obviously didn’t want to be handled.

But whenever Evan talks about him, in this low, soft cadence, with a somber look across his features, she feels a connection to her brother, one she hasn’t felt in years. He tells her stories, stories that he doesn’t even tell her parents, stories that reform Connor back into a true human being in her mind. 

Evan and his first date, how they laughed, about the ups and downs, how they spread apart and came back together, how Evan tried to save him but failed, just as she did. About how Connor would talk about her in hushed tones, how much he wanted to be like her, to be liked and easy and calm, how much he missed her.

He comes over every Monday, and they all just talk, about the present, the past, and the future. It’s good. It’s helping everyone. Cynthia isn’t frantically trying to control everything and everyone anymore, and Larry is less...unstable. 

When Evan suggests starting a memorial website, of course she agrees. Also, she has more of an excuse for Alana to come over almost every day after school with this, too. Sometimes they work, texting Evan and Jared with ideas, but mostly they just...enjoy time together.

Now, Alana stands beside her, surveying the room once again. She barely ever says anything while they’re in here, too afraid of saying something wrong, of offending Zoe or her brother’s memory. It’s quiet. It isn’t an angry quiet, a hateful and resentful and furious quiet like it is with her family. This is a different quiet: almost serene, accepting.

She knows she failed as a sister, and that her parents failed as parents. Slowly, though, she’s learning not to be angry at herself, or, more importantly, not to be angry at Connor. Evan’s talked to her a lot about mental health, how it affects people, how he probably didn’t really think about the consequences of what he was doing, how he just wanted out because of a chemical imbalance in his brain. It makes things easier for her to accept.

Slowly, Zoe and Alana turn around, moving out of the room. Zoe used to never go in there, but she does now, sometimes. They settle down on Zoe’s bed, cross-legged. Alana hums under her breath.

Zoe clears her throat, trying to clear her mind as well. “Where’s Evan?”

Alana shrugs, but it isn’t a dismissive move. “I think he’s with Jared. They got into a huge fight.” She picks at the fraying edges of her socks absentmindedly.

“Yeah?” Zoe’s brow wrinkles. Sure, she’s only talked to Jared a handful of times, and she doesn’t really get the appeal of being his friend, but they don’t seem like the type of people to fight much. “I noticed that he wasn’t with Jared in the halls anymore, but I didn’t know why.”

Alana rests her hands underneath her chin, “They haven’t talked in, like, two weeks, I think.”

Zoe lays back onto the bed, stretching. “Why?”

Her girlfriend plops down beside her, “It was this whole complicated thing, I don’t really-”

“Tell me," Zoe murmurs.

Looking at Zoe cautiously, Alana shakes her head, “It’s not really my place…”

“Come on….” Zoe cajoles. “All I’ve heard about for the past few months is ‘Connor this’ and ‘Connor that.’ I don’t want everything to be about that right now, I just…. I don’t even know.”

“That’s the thing, though,” Alana rolls onto her side. “It _is_ kinda about Connor.” Zoe meets her girlfriend’s gaze slowly, cocking her head to the side. Alana sighs, “Evan’s just been having a rough time recently.”

This gets Zoe’s full attention. “Why? Has someone been-”

“No, no, it’s nothing like that, just… His Dad called him a few weeks ago, and he’s-he hasn’t been the same since.”

“I didn’t know-” Zoe shakes her head. “I thought Evan lived with his Dad?”

“No, just his Mom, she has full custody. His Dad left when he was seven.”

Zoe inhales through her teeth. “That fucking sucks.”

“Yeah.”

“Do you know why? I’m being really really nosy, I know, just… It can’t be worse than my own family, though, can it?”

“I mean...” Alana glances at her again, and there’s obviously something she’s not telling her, something big.

“Was he...you know?” 

She’s seen the way Evan reacts to physical contact and loud noises, the way his entire body tenses whenever she goes near him, almost like he’s expecting to be hit.

“No!” Alana shakes her head roughly. “At least, I don’t think so?” Her face falls suddenly, “Maybe?" She pauses, "No, wait, Evan used to go down and visit his Dad, like, once a year or so. He doesn't anymore, but... There’s no way Heidi’d let him do that if he was…” she pauses, lowering her voice, “abusive or something.”

Zoe lets out a breath, “Right, that’s true, that’s true. Thank God.” She intertwines their hands together, tracing patterns across the back of Alana’s palm. “Are Jared and Evan at least talking about it?”

Alana shakes her head, “I don’t think so.” She sighs, “You know, these boys, they aren’t gonna talk about things they need to talk about until it gets to a point of desperation. They’re not gonna talk about their issues until said issues become too big for even _them_ to ignore, which is a feat.”

Zoe chuckles, “Oh my God, that’s too true.” Her face falls, “I still don’t get what happened.” She turns to meet Alana’s gaze, her eyebrows pulling upwards. Her girlfriend stares back at her for a few moments, before her resolve crumbles.

“You have to promise not to tell anyone.”

“I won’t. I promise I won’t.”

“Okay…” She squeezes Zoe’s hand. “So, from what I understand, and you can’t quote me on this, ‘cause I’m only a second-hand receiver of this information. But, from what I get, Jared kissed Evan.” Zoe’s eyes widen in shock. “And Evan immediately pulled away and panicked about it, because, you know, as anyone would, that was kinda…”

“A dick move,” Zoe finishes succinctly. Her face is still stunned, and she exhales deeply. “Shit. No wonder Evan’s been off lately…” She shakes her head, her nose wrinkling. “Who even does that? Kiss someone literally a month after their boyfriend died. Like… Jesus… And I know I said I don’t have any problems with Jared, but, like, no wonder they’re not talking.”

“Yeah… I couldn’t-” Alana sighs, pulling Zoe into her arms. “To do that to Connor’s memory. To do that to _Evan_.”

Zoe tightens her arms around her girlfriend, pressing a kiss into her cheek. “I couldn’t imagine.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ((I honestly think Evan and Jared (particularly Jared) would be 10x more likely to talk about other people, but it was necessary.)) I hope you all enjoyed this!!! And thank you so much for reading, and I cannot wait to read your thoughts and opinions and predictions in the comment section below! ily!


	14. Old Friends

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It’s been good, really. All of it. In fact, it all feels too perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ooh. there's an omc here, but he isn't gonna become a major character or anything, just a plot point, so don't worry! and more connor! zoe will be back next chapter!
> 
> also tw: mentions of suicide and suicidal thoughts, violence, some blood, swearing

Evan remembers the first time he ever met Connor. He had just transferred to the new school, and he recalls looking around, frantically, trying not to throw up everywhere, or hyperventilate, or pass out, or-or something worse? All he wanted to do was blend. By that point, he’d mostly perfected the art of disappearing, but here? On his first new day and a new school halfway through the second semester? Disappearing was much more difficult.

Everyone seemed to be looking at him, staring at him, whispering behind their curled hands as he slowly walked to his classroom. He tugged on the hem of his t-shirt and tried desperately not to think about everything that could go wrong, about everything that could be ruined, once again. He tried not to remember what went wrong before, what made him switch schools, what ruined everything, which means, of course, that he went on and thought about it so much until the thoughts consumed him.

He slowly took his seat, trying to make as little noise as possible. Then, another kid sat down next to him, a kid with chin-length curly hair that flowed around his face like a halo, and Evan’s heart froze. Someone actually sat next to him, someone actually made an attempt… 

But this kid wasn’t just like every other member of this school, the children that run the halls and smile and laugh and don’t think twice about things. His movements were slowly, tense, calculated, as though to take up as little space as possible, to fade into the shadows. His eyes watched Evan carefully, slowly, and in those eyes, Evan saw himself reflected back.

Evan thinks a lot about how similar they both are, how much could’ve been saved if one of them had ever reached out. When Zoe tells him that Connor’s first attempt, before actually succeeding, was in early summer, all Evan can think about is...what if? What if they tried on the same day? What if they failed on the same day? What if-

Evan normally attempts to stop these thoughts before they root themselves in his mind for the rest of eternity. 

He thinks a lot about that day, with the tree. His fall. Probably, he thinks about it too much. About how he hasn’t told anyone yet. About how no one seems to even suspect. 

He reminds himself how his therapist tells him to never use words like “succeeded” or “failed” when it comes to taking your own life.

Part of him wishes that someone would see through the facade, would force him to talk about it, to truly mend, but a majority of him is still terrified. Terrified of making them all hate him, even more than they might already. Terrified of his mother’s disappointed face...just as much as he’s terrified of his father’s uninterested one.

At school, for a while, people seem to give him room to mourn, guidance counselors call him down regularly, teachers seem to lessen the homework load. 

A few people reach out to him, mostly through Facebook or Instagram, sending him either small, sentence-long signs of encouragement, or lengthy messages about grief and acceptance and love. He reads a few at first, but, pretty soon, he can’t bring himself to do it anymore. After his speech at the assembly, though, after his viral video, people begin to approach him in the hallways, calling his name as he walks to his locker. 

Sometimes they are surrounded by friends, other times they are alone. Sometimes they want an interview for the school newspaper, other times they just want to talk, about little nothings or about how they, too, thought about everything Connor did. People say he’s helped them, but he doesn’t understand how. 

He tries to think that he’s helping Connor in some way, helping the Murphy’s, repeats that over and over in his mind.

Most people, though, give him a wide berth, nudging their friends and pointing towards him. “It’s that dead kid’s boyfriend,” they whisper. It isn’t malicious, just their own fact.

Evan asks his physicatrist to increase his dosage of Xanax anyway.

He begins to walk between classes with Jared again, and he tries not to think too much about how Jared suddenly doesn’t seem to mind being seen in public with Evan. He wonders what Jared will do once all of this dies out, once Evan’s a nameless nobody again. He shakes his head and remembers the feeling of Jared’s lips on his neck from the week before and tries to convince himself that Jared doesn’t care about that anymore, that they’re in a relationship now, that Jared would never abandon him like that.

He thinks that most of the school accepts him, that most of them understand his “situation.” Maybe, he hopes, maybe they even like him? Maybe?

This hope all comes crashing to the ground on a Tuesday, when Evan is walking out of school, heading to the Murphy household, as he’s taken to doing a few times per week. Zoe offered to drive him, but spring is slowly beginning to emerge, the flowers ahead blooming, and he doesn’t want to miss it. Also, Jared wanted to walk with him, since his car is being serviced at the moment.

For once, his mind is calm, as the spring breeze washes over him, his feet moving easily on the smooth sidewalk. Jared walks a few paces beside him; they’re both careful not to be too touchy on school grounds. Evan doesn’t know what people would think, and he really doesn’t want to find out. Jared smiles at him every few moments, though, as they walk in the bright light.

It’s been good, really. All of it. In fact, it all feels too perfect.

“Hey!” A voice calls from behind them.

They both turn around, and Evan recognizes the voice immediately. His heart begins to pound rapidly. Jared looks back and forth between him and the voice. “Charlie?” he murmurs, tensing and taking a step back. There’s a guy standing there, probably about their grade, maybe a little older, with a mop of curly hair and dark eyes.

“Who’s this, Evan? Your new boyfriend?” Then, Jared freezes as well, taking a step to the side.

Jared huffs, his eyes narrowing, “What?” It doesn’t sound like a question, though. 

The guy--Charlie? Is that what Evan said? Jared’s mind rushes as he tries to recognize the face.--ignores him, though, and turns back to Evan. “Surprised you moved on so quickly. Didn’t your last one just die, what, a month ago?” 

Evan clenches his hands into a fist, stepping in front of Jared cautiously. “Stop, Charlie.”

“What the fuck, man?” Jared moves out again, carefully taking note of Evan’s further hunched posture. “Who is this dick, Evan?” he whispers.

“It doesn’t matter,” Evan responds, not meeting Jared’s eyes for a moment. “ _He_ doesn’t matter.”

“Oh, really?”

Evan takes another step forward. “Are you really gonna do this?” And for once, his voice doesn’t falter. He doesn’t falter. He isn’t a freshman anymore, he isn’t, he knows he isn’t. He can stand up to Charlie. He’s not some weak kid, despite what many people may think.

Jared watches as a silent exchange occurs between these two, and his brain floods with even more questions. “No,” the kid’s eyes narrow, his lip curling in disdain towards Evan. “You’re not worth it.”

Jared springs forward, his heads raised defensively. “Don’t you dare-”

“What? You gonna fight me?” The guy raises his eyebrows, a smirk spreading across his face.

“Actually-” Jared starts, but Evan interrupts him.

“Jared, please…” Evan places a hand on his arm, pulling him backwards. “It’s fine.”

“You can’t just let people walk over you, Evan.”

“Yeah, _Evan_ ,” the guy mocks, and Jared turns on him again.

“Look, there’s two of us and one of you, so why don’t you go and beat it, huh?” Jared hisses, before turning to Evan. “How do you even know this jerk?”

Charlie smiles cruelly, and it’s an expression that Jared can’t place, can’t make sense of. “I bet there’s a lot of things you don’t know about Evan.” 

“What does that even mean?”

“He’s just trying-he’s just trying to mess with you,” Evan whispers, tugging at Jared’s sleeve, his eyes low to the ground. “Let’s just go.”

“You know,” Charlie calls, and Jared sees Evan’s eyes flick over to him, almost instinctively. “I bet Connor’s pretty lonely in Hell. Why don’t you join him?” He smirks lowly, “I know you always wanted to.”

For a moment, Evan stands, stock-still, the words repeating over and over in his brain before he fully understands what they mean. Then, suddenly, the world seems to go dark, falling black, and Evan’s mind goes numb, and heat fills his entirety, and he’s so angry, suddenly, and he doesn’t know why. It isn’t the worst thing anyone’s ever said to him, not by far, but there’s this fury that consumes him, entirely, this overwhelming anger. And he’s hearing it all, hearing everything that anyone’s ever whispered about him behind his back, every phone call he’s ever had with his father, every lie Charlie ever told him, all of it.

And he doesn’t know what’s happening, or what he’s doing, or what he did, but then he can feel two arms wrapping around his waist, pulling him back, back, back.

Everything’s still fuzzy when he looks up, but he can see Jared standing beside him with wide eyes, two hands raised like a sign of peace. Evan’s breathing is rapid, moving faster than he can remember, and he looks down. 

He sees the back of his hand, the knuckles raw, and he sees Charlie, hunched over and holding his nose between both hands, staggering back, his eyes wide, too. Sticky redness flows between his fingers. “You’re-” Charlie says, and his voice wavers for the first time Evan can remember. “You’re a fucking psycho! You two deserved each other!”

Evan doesn’t move, doesn’t even blink, just continues to stare down at his hand and feel his racing heart. “I-” he starts, but he can’t finish. He’s blinking so rapidly. The world feels like it’s spinning over and over, as he watches Charlie retreat into the distance as Jared stands beside him. And Jared’s talking, isn’t he?

But Evan can’t make out a word.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Despite what it may seem like, I do have a complete and organized plan for this story!
> 
> I know you all probably have a lot of questions, and I'm gonna answer them all ASAP! You may recognize the name Charlie from earlier in this story, if you paid really really close attention, but we don't yet know the full story. Hmmm....
> 
> As well, I personally believe that Evan absolutely hates violence, hates it more than anything else; he is sickened by it, in fact. And he also doesn't have the greatest self esteem in the world, so him standing up for himself is unlikely. This, though, is a special circumstance. Jared's right there. The guy was mocking Connor. Evan isn't gonna let that slide.
> 
> I look forward to hearing your thoughts in the comments below, and hopefully you enjoyed (and/or were intrigued) by this update!! Thank you all so much for reading!! We'll get some fluff back in here very soon!!!!


	15. Who?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared lowers his hands back to his sides, kneeling down onto the ground, “Who _was_ that?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> and just a few hours later, the next chapter! some discussing and talking and maybe a little kissing. tw: suicidal thoughts and actions, mention of past violence. cw: swearing

“What the fuck, Evan?” Jared lowers his hands pack to his sides, kneeling down onto the ground, his hands pressing into the side of his head. “Who was that?”

Evan slowly moves down beside him, running his fingertips across the rough concrete. “That was Charlie.”

Jared huffs, exasperatedly. “Yeah, I got that part. But who _was_ he?”

Evan stares at his knuckles. “I met him in eighth grade, that summer you…” Evan glances up. “I don’t know where you were, but you weren’t here.” He continues speaking before either of them can over-analyze that. “And I met him, Charlie, in June, and he was cool. We hang out the whole time, and when the school year started again, he stopped really interacting with me, but that’s fine, because we didn’t have any classes anyway. And then eighth grade passed and we became high schoolers, and-”

“Yeah?” Jared moves forward, his eyebrow drawn.

Evan’s brain feels like it’s been fried into little bits of char. “My first kiss was with this girl, at a bat Mitzvah, when I was thirteen, and it was a dare so-so it didn’t really count? My-my second one--my first real one--was with this-was with Charlie.”

Jared pulls back, wondering how in the world he didn’t know this. “Did you two…date?”

“Not really? We-” Evan runs a hand through his hair. “I am a virgin, Jared, but not-not in every way, if that-if that makes any sense?”

“Because of Charlie.”

Evan nods.

“Did he…”

Evan scrambles for a moment, “No, he didn’t, we both...consented, if that’s what you’re asking.”

Jared breathes a sigh of relief, “Good, good, that’s...good.”

“So, I-we-what happened…” Evan’s eyes skate across the ground. “It doesn’t really matter.”

Jared leans forward, “You can tell me.”

Evan closes his eyes tightly, “I’ve never hit anyone before. I’ve never…”

“I know,” Jared chuckles. “I’ve seen you capture frickin’ flies to set them free outside rather than squash them.”

Evan nods slowly, picking at his fingernails “Yeah.” _It felt good, too._

“So…” Jared moves closer to him, “what happened after that?”

Evan presses his palms into his eyes, blocking every bit of light. “One day-one day his Dad found us? We weren’t, like, _doing anything_ , just cuddling? I guess. And his Dad came in, and we had thought that he was away, or something, and just asked what was going on, and-and kicked me out, and then Charlie stopped texting me back, and I obviously couldn’t track him down at his house, so I waited outside of the school, one-one day, and, there he was, but he just said, ‘Don’t talk to me.’” Evan swallows thickly. “So I didn’t, Jared, I didn’t. And sophomore year wasn’t-wasn’t a good time, at all, because-because everything was just falling down, and I-I..." He pauses. "You don’t want to hear this.”

Jared’s stunned for a moment, “I do. You’re fine.”

Evan blinks slowly, “I don’t want to scare you off.”

“You’re not gonna scare me off,” Jared chuckles. “Come on, there’s nothing you can say that’ll scare me.”

“You’ll hate me, then.”

“No, Evan, no,” Jared reaches forward, “You can’t make me hate you.”

Evan shakes his head, “You don’t know that.”

“I don’t, but-”

“When I told him, he hated me.”

Jared places a hand on the ground, palm up, an offering for physical contact rather than just taking it. He doesn’t say anything; he doesn’t know what to say. Evan could think he’s lying, and what if he is? “Well, he’s a dick, and I’m not him, okay?”

Evan lets his eyes close, “Are you sure?” Jared nods slowly. “We shouldn’t-we can't. Not here.” The older doesn’t argue, just stands up and follows as they walk, a soft silence covering them both, until they reach Evan’s house. The entire time, Jared continues to send looks at his boyfriend (or, Jared thinks that’s what they are, but they’ve never officially labeled themselves?), making sure that he isn’t overthinking everything, panicking. Of course, Evan is always overthinking everything; it’s what he does.

After about ten more minutes, they reach Evan’s house. Ten minutes of resisting the urge to grab Evan’s hand and pull him close. Ten minutes of wondering what the fuck is happening. Evan slowly leads him into the living room, sitting down on the couch carefully.

Evan swallows, “I was saying… After-after his-Charlie’s Dad threw me out, I tried to find him at school, and I did, at his locker, and he looked at me, looked at me and said, ‘Don’t ever talk to me again,’ and I asked him why he was saying that, and he just-just pushed me away and left, and I-I went home, and he didn’t speak to me-didn’t even look at me in the hallways, for a month, and I started to think some things-some things I know I shouldn’t’ve been thinking, but I did, and I thought he was the only one who could help me, because he was the only one who mattered to me.”

Evan taps his fingers across his thigh in a steady rhythm. One two three four five, one two three four five, one two three four five. “And I-and I confronted him again, outside of school, where there weren’t any of our classmates, and I told him-I said, ‘You have to talk to me, or I’m-" Evan freezes, clearing his throat. "And he said that it was my fault, all of it, that I ruined him, ruined his relationship with his Dad, that it was all my fault, all of it, and I-he blamed me for it all, and I think he still does, and I managed to get his phone number one day, and I told him, I told him that I would do it, if-if he didn’t stop this, if he didn’t keep-”

Jared pulls back, “Would do what, Evan?”

Evan looks up at him, his mouth contorting, his eyes red. “You know what." He turns, and his voice pitches like he's begging. And maybe he is. "Don’t make me say it.”

“I won’t.” Jared grabs Evan’s outstretched hand and squeezes it roughly. 

Evan’s shaking, but his breathing is controlled, even. His expression twists as he gnaws on his bottom lip. An exhale escapes him, his throat constricting, and there are those words, the words he’s never wanted to say, never wanted to admit. “I wanted to die, Jared. I wanted to end it, end this.” He motions across himself, across the tears that begin to fall down his face.

Jared’s heart freezes. “What?”

 _Connor must be lonely in Hell._ “I told him that I would kill myself if he didn’t forgive me.” _Why don’t you go and join him._ “And he didn’t, just said that I-that I was the reason his life was ruined, and that I deserved it, and I was-my Mom came into my room because she heard me crying before I could do anything, but I would’ve, Jared. I would’ve, if she hadn’t had been there.” _I know you’ve always wanted to._ "And I know that's a horrible thing to do, and really really manipulative, but that was before I got on any meds or went to therapy, and I was a different person then, Jared. I wasn't..." His throat burns, and his eyes sting with wetness. "It was different."

Jared doesn’t know what to say, or what to do, or how to act. Evan shakes his head, “I did try, though, last summer.” He pulls his hand away from Jared, uses it to wipe away his tears. “That’s how…” he takes a deep breath. “That’s how I broke my arm. I didn’t fall…” He pauses, and in that pause, there seems to be a million years. “I let go.”

Instantly, Jared pulls Evan against him, their chests pressed together, and Jared can't breathe either. Evan laughs wetly, but it isn’t a happy sound, “I thought you would hate me.”

Jared shakes his head, his hand against Evan’s back. “I would never-never hate you for that, Evan.” Slowly, cautiously, Evan’s arms wrap around Jared’s body, pulling them together. “I’m not gonna ask if you’re okay, because-because that’s a ridiculous question, I know, but are you-you’re not…”

Jared can feel the bones of Evan’s spine against his palm.

Evan presses his lips into Jared’s skin, feeling the warmth there, the light. “I don’t want to die anymore.”

Relief quickly spreads across the older boy, “That’s-that’s good, that’s really good, that’s amazing, in fact.” His throat feels like it’s stuck together by glue. “I’m-I don’t know what I’d do, if you were gone.”

Evan protests against him softly. “You’d move on.”

Jared pulls back, his eyes wide, disturbed. “No, how could you-I know I can be a dick, Evan, but I wouldn’t, I wouldn’t just _get over_ you _dying_.”

Evan’s staring at him with these eyes, these deep-set eyes, with thick eyelids, that, from a distance, seem like the darkest shade of black, but up close are the color of the richest emerald. 

Eyes that could swallow you whole.

“Are you sure?”

“More than anything else in my entire life, Evan.”

And a smile spreads across Evan’s face, the first real one Jared’s seen all day. “I never pegged you for a romantic.”

“I never have been.” Jared smiles back. “Before now.”

Evan pulls away, his face moving in disbelief. “That’s the single most cheesy thing I’ve ever heard in my entire life. I thought I was supposed to be the cheesy one.”

Jared retrieves Evan’s hand, pressing the back of it to his lips. “We all have our days,” he responds. Slowly, the haziness above them behinds to lift. Jared huffs, “I can’t believe you ever dated that, guy, though. What a complete dick.”

Evan sends him a look. It doesn’t quite work, though, considering that his face is still stained with barely dry tears. “I guess I just have a thing for complete dicks.” At Jared’s affronted expression, Evan continues. “I’m joking, I’m joking.”

Jared grins, lacing their fingers together. “And here I didn’t know you could joke.” 

And Evan doesn’t tense, doesn’t pull away, doesn’t apologize or stiffen; he just looks up fondly, “You’ve just never appreciated my humor before.”

Jared tilts Evan’s face up to his, the back of his hand beneath Evan’s chin, before pressing his lips against Evan’s plush ones. They both let their eyes fall shut.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there it is! I'm sure you still have more questions, but I'm gonna answer them soon! Over the next few chapters! Also, I love having Evan and Jared have fun together and making jokes, because that's their Thing. Leave comments, suggestions, thoughts, ideas, predictions, and more all in the comment section below and I will love you forever! Thank you for reading!!


	16. The Murphy's

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan spends time with the Murphy's, as his thoughts begin to catch up to him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ahhhhhhhhh! this is the longest chapter i've ever written for this fic. tw: suicidal ideation

On one Saturday evening, Evan Hansen stops taking his medication. He grabs one pill, holds it between his fingers, before crushing it into dust and throwing it far, far away. It feels so good that he keeps doing it. Every night.

He doesn't want to need fixing anymore. He doesn't need to get better, he thinks, because this is already the best he's felt in a long, long time. So maybe he wasn't exactly thinking the clearest at the time, distracted with the whole Charlie situation, but he's been feeling so good recently. So good. With Jared, with everything. And he wants to feel it all, not to be numbed. 

Then, before he can doubt himself, before he can recognize what he's done, he’s at the Murphy’s again. He has been for every day this week, other than Tuesday, when he spent the evening with Jared. More specifically, he’s in the “den,” a room he doesn’t really understand the purpose of, with Mr. Murphy. He’s been sent there by Zoe, told that her father had something to share with him.

“Hello,” Evan says, as he runs his fingertips across the top of the table, wiping away the nonexistent dust. 

“Evan!" Larry turns to him, smiling. "I’ve been looking through some of these old things, things that were put away for years. I thought we could auction some of it off, use the money to help with the orchard. It’d be a pretty easy thousand bucks, I figure.”

“Yeah, yeah." His brain feels off today. "That’d-that’d be great. Thank you. I-sorry.”

“What for?” Larry furrows his brow, cocking his head to the side.

“Oh, um.” Evan freezes. Nobody’s asked him that before, not seriously. “I don’t, I just. Am…. Sorry.”

Larry’s expression becomes even more confused. “Oh?”

“Yeah.” Evan bites down hard on the inside of his cheek to keep a further mass of words from falling out of his mouth. He ignores the guilt that permeates his body whenever he's around Larry.

“Well…” Larry begins to dig through the box, laying things out on the table. He doesn’t seem to mind the quiet; in fact, he seems rather comforted by it. Evan isn’t, though, not in the slightest. The silence makes him sit there, sit there with his own thoughts, alone, feeling dejected and rejected and neglected.

He leaps forward, snatching the first thing he sees. “This glove’s really cool, wow.” The words tumble out of his mouth in rapid succession, with no real order, but they get a smile out of Larry.

“That?” Larry sighs, moving across the table towards Evan, who forces himself to remain still. _He’s normal,_ he reminds himself. _This is normal. You’re normal, here. So act fucking normal._ As he approaches, Evan quickly holds the glove out to return it. Larry accepts it, looking down at it.

“God, I’d forgotten about that glove. Must’ve bought it...six or seven years ago. I tried to get Connor to play baseball back in middle school, but he never even took the tag off. You can have it, if you want.” There’s a shadow across his face, hiding most of his expression, and Evan doesn’t want to try to figure out what this all means.

“No, no, I don’t want to-to intrude or anything…” Evan isn’t sure if those are the right words, or if anything he’s doing is right.

“Come on, it’ll just be collecting dust down here, if not. It’s no harm.”

Evan glances up, and he’s surprised by how desperately he wants this, wants to be a part of this. A cruel part of him thinks that, if he had been in Connor’s position, if he had had these parents, this house, these opportunities, he wouldn’t have done it. 

Evan tries to shake that thought away, tries to suppress that jealous part of him, because he knows that mental illness doesn’t work that way, and he knows that Connor’s parents are only showing him the good side of everything, now.

The thought still lingers.

Evan presses his palms against his jeans. “Are you sure?”

Larry holds the glove out for him, and, slowly, Evan takes it, turning its leather over and over between his fingertips.

Mr. Murphy clears his throat, “Look, son,” Evan’s brain lingers for perhaps thirty seconds on that last word, frozen and stilted, even as Larry continues speaking. “What you did for Connor, those last few months… I thought he was getting better, I really did, and I-of course I made some mistakes. Hell, I made a lot of mistakes. But, you really did help him, as much as you could. I could see it, could see him getting better.”

Evan suppresses the urge to shake his head, to yell _“I didn’t do anything!”_. To ruin it all.

“I know you tried your best, so. Thanks.”

Evan digs his teeth into his lower lip, clenching his hands, “You’re-you’re welcome. I-I’m sorry I couldn’t-couldn’t do more.”

“There was only so much any of us could do.”

Suddenly, a wave of anger floods Evan’s body, of uncontrolled, horrible fury. He thinks of how Connor’s dad ruined him, just like Evan’s did. He sees Jon there, for just a moment, flickering over Larry’s face. His dad, who didn’t “believe in” therapy either, who refused to let Evan get treatment, who still refuses to pay his portion of Evan’s medical bills, who tells Evan that he doesn’t need medication or therapists--and maybe, maybe he doesn't? Maybe it's all in his head-- _well,_ he thinks, _it obviously_ is _all in your head._

He hears his father’s voice in Larry, _“Every teenager is depressed, Evan. Get over yourself. You don’t need that”_ saying that Evan isn’t a “real man” for wanting help, for asking for help. 

He sees Charlie’s father, then, standing in the doorway in front of Charlie’s room, his expression stoic. His voice when he asked what was going on, when he looked into Evan’s eyes and said that word. That three letter word. The one that made Evan’s entirety seize, even though he tried to tell himself, over and over, that it’s just a word, he shouldn’t panic because of a word. But, once he started, he couldn’t stop.

He thinks of all that toxicity, of how Larry didn’t even seem truly sad until recently, and, sure, everyone mourns in their own way, but Evan’s hair still stands on edge whenever Larry’s around. How, there’s a sinking feeling in Evan’s stomach that if Connor was still alive, if him and Evan had actually dated, that Larry wouldn’t have supported them.

He thinks that, if Cynthia didn’t need him so much, Larry wouldn’t keep Evan around, would’ve told Connor not to talk to him, to stay away from "that strange kid.”

Sometimes he sees pity in Larry’s eyes, and it makes him was to lash out, to fight back, to stand up for himself and for the memory of a boy he never really knew.

Most of all, though, he hates how he would kill to have been in Connor’s position, to have had these parents, this life. He hates how his heart clenches whenever Cynthia hugs him or whenever Larry calls him “son.”

He hates how desperate he is, how desperate and angry he is.

Instead of saying any of this, though, Evan just nods his head roughly, “You’re right.”

Larry walks over to him, placing a hand on Evan’s shoulder, who just barely stops himself from flinching. “I think it’s time for dinner.”

They make their way to the dining room, which is set and perfect and clean.

Cynthia smiles at him and leads him towards to table, where Zoe is already seated. His throat feels drier than ever before.

He brushes his hair back, overcome with the sudden urge to shave his head, to get rid of it all.

“How was today? Zoe? Evan?” Cynthia smiles.

She always smiles, Evan realizes. It’s the same way she smiles at Zoe. His heart freezes, and he looks down, his mind racing. _Son, son, son, son, son,_ that one offhand word from Mr. Murphy repeats over and over in his head on a continuous loop. _That’s just something people say, Evan. Old guys say that all the time, to everyone, it’s not a big deal, calm down, take some deep breaths._

“Evan?”

Evan’s head whips up, his eyes widening. “Oh! Um, it was fine. I-I spoke with-with J-Jared and Alana about-about the Connor Project, and we’re doing a few, um, blogs about it all, and they’ll be up by the end of the week. I-Zoe proofread some of them, so…” He tries to divert the attention away from himself, but it fails.

“Are you writing one?” Larry says, grabbing a roll.

“I-I think so? I’ve started one.”

“What’s it about?”

“The article? It’s about that day at the orchard-the one I told you about, when I-when I broke my arm, and… Yeah.”

Cynthia’s looking at him again, intently, and her eyes are soft and warm, softer than anyone else’s, and Evan doesn’t know what to do. “You were good for him.”

“For who?” he asks, because his brain is frozen solid like a block of ice.

“For Connor.”

Evan tenses. 

Connor is more to them than anyone else. Connor isn’t a figment to them, isn’t a person they met two or three times, isn’t someone they watched from afar but never really experienced, isn’t an anxious remark gone wrong.

To them, Connor isn’t a lie that spiraled out of control.

He feels sick, suddenly, his empty stomach churning. He knows that Connor is more than that to him, too, is someone he thinks about every hour of every day. But why? Why does he mean that much to Evan? He's sickened that he can't really explain it.

“I wasn’t.” Evan shakes his head, “Please don’t say that.”

“It’s true, I could see it, in those last few months.”

 _If I was making him so happy, then why would he go and kill himself a few months later?_ “I don’t-“

“By the time you got to him, he was almost at a point of no return. There was nothing we could’ve done to stop what happened, but at least you-you seemed to make him happy, from what you’ve told us.”

 _What I’ve told you is all a lie._ “Thank you,” he whispers into the table, trying pointedly to not throw up everywhere. “I should-“

Zoe places a hand on his, and he flinches. He doesn’t want to, but he does, he doesn’t act soon enough to not, and Zoe’s expression pauses for a moment. 

“Everything that you’re doing for him now, for his memory. The Connor Project.” 

It’s Zoe, Zoe thanking him for something she shouldn’t be thanking him for.

“I didn’t-you shouldn’t-I’m sorry. Anyone would’ve done that, you don’t-“

“They didn’t, though,” Cynthia says. “You did.”

“I wasn’t-I wasn’t the only one. Jared, Alana, the people on Facebook, just-please, don’t thank me.”

“I want to,” Zoe says.

Evan can feel the bile in his stomach rising, and he pulls his hand away from Zoe, placing it on his lap. “I’m-“ He shakes his head. “I should-“

Larry sighs, “I’m sure plenty of colleges are interested in what you’re doing.”

“Yes!” Cynthia nods encouragingly. “Quite a good thing to put on your resumé.”

Evan feels like he's drowning below miles of cold salt water. “Your _son_ isn’t something I would put on my resumé. He isn't some _extracurricular_ He wasn’t-he was a person.”

Cynthia pulls back, her face contorting, offended. “I didn’t mean it like that, Evan.”

He stares at her for a few moments, an uncomfortable silence falling over the table like a stifling fire blanket. Evan’s eyes burn. “Oh-of course, I didn’t-I didn’t-I know that, I’m sorry, I wasn’t thinking. I’m sorry.”

Larry interrupts his tangent, diverting the conversation away from this topic, “Where are you thinking about going? For college?”

Evan swallows thickly, and there’s a horrible fear running through him that he’s going to start crying. “I-I don’t know, I’m probably gonna have to take a year off to-to save up money. And then I’ll probably be able to afford community college. I’m doing some scholarship essay contests in the area, but-“

Larry’s frowning. “You could do much better than community college.”

Evan’s hands clench underneath the table, and he grinds his teeth together to keep these words from flying out of his mouth. “I don’t mind,” he says, and he’s ruining it all, he can feel it. They’re gonna see him, see the real him, how broken he is, how messed up, and they’re gonna run from him, and then he’ll truly be all alone.

 _What about Jared?_ he contradicts himself. The voice in his head, the voice that’s started to sound a lot like Connor Murphy, hisses in response, _Jared will leave you too, just like the rest of them._

Evan thinks about Jared’s tongue on Evan’s neck, his hands grabbing at Evan’s shirt, and he doesn’t think that’s true. He knows that isn’t true. But the voice keeps repeating it, over and over, until Zoe’s real, live voice breaks through.

“I saw an article on Buzzfeed about the Connor Project the other day, about how our ‘whole community is coming together’ or something.”

Cynthia nods, “It’s been shared nearly four thousand times already!”

Evan coughs, “Did it-did it mention me?”

“Of course! Only with the information that’s providing on the Connor Project website.”

“Oh.” Evan blinks a few times, his muscles tensing further.

Now, if anyone Googles him, Googles his name, that article will probably come up. The Connor Project will come up. People will know. People will comment. What, he thinks, will people do if they find out the truth? Would any college accept him, would he have to change his name, change his face, try and hide from the fact that everyone would know he’s the worst person ever.

He again suppresses the urge to vomit. “That’s amazing.”

“More donations will probably be coming in, soon. People will want to help with the orchard.”

“The orchard.” Evan nods. “Of course.” He plasters a fake smile on his face, a mask. “That’s amazing.”

He normally feels good with the Murphy’s. They don’t want to fix him. They don’t yell at him. They don’t tell him to participate more, don’t hand him piles upon piles of essay contests until he’s suffocating, don’t make him take medication and go to therapy and see a psychiatrist and feel so fucking broken inside, a cracked shell of a person. 

That isn’t how he feels today.

Today he feels like a burglar, like a thief, violating their home and their son’s memory, everything. He sees the trust in their eyes and he wants to end it all. The only thing stopping him is the idea that the truth could hurt him more than anything else, could hurt them more than lying hurts him. 

Charlie’s there in his head, for just a moment. How Evan’s hands felt on his soft skin, pulling, and how his rough hands felt on Evan, how he tasted on Evan's tongue. How he never really trusted Evan—or didn’t trust himself around Evan. How everything fell apart.

How, after that night, after Charlie hung up on him for the last time ever, how he prepared himself to die—to be ended, to never think again, to never feel again, to be over. He thinks about it all, and he can’t stop. He wonders why now, why Charlie chose to talk to him for the first time in two years just now. _Why now?_ he asks himself.

“Evan?” Zoe’s eyebrows at pulled together. She waves a hand in front of his face. “Are you okay?”

His mind isn't making any sense, jumping around from one topic to the next, frantically running and changing and moving. He feels dizzy, feels like he's been trapped on a rollercoaster for the last twelve hours that doesn't stop, just keeps speeding up. “I’m-“ he chokes out. “I’m fine.”

He’s met with three encouraging faces. Three people he doesn’t deserve, three people he never deserved.

For the first time since late summer, he truly wants to sink into the ground, to vanish into thin air.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> so....evan's thoughts are all over the place because you SHOULD NOT go off your medication without approval from your psychiatrist. evan goes off of his in the show, but they only really mention it once? and, you've probably guessed it....things are gonna get intense very very soon... but first, you'll experience jared and evan's first real date! so please stick around!!
> 
> thank you so much for reading, and i'll update the next chapter asap!! thank you all so much for reading and commenting, and i absolutely adore reading your comments and responding to them!!!


	17. If You Want

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared asks Evan on a date, but things don't go quite as planned.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> tw: mentions of violence and suicidal ideation

Evan doesn’t feel quite right. He hasn’t felt right for a while. He tries to tell himself that this not-feeling-right is natural. It’s him naturally.

He spends all week trying not to think about the Murphy's, about everything that happened with them, about Connor.

He slams the door of his locker shut, trying not to jump at the loud, clanging sound. He turns, only to leap backwards roughly twenty feet in surprise. “Whoa, whoa, whoa,” Jared starts, smiling, before his expression changes to one of concern. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, I’m fine. I’m good.” Evan forces a smile, glancing around the hallway nervously. Luckily, it’s deserted, with most teenagers rushing out in a hurry on this final day of the school week. Evan stayed behind in eighth period to avoid the crowd, and Jared waited with him. Now it’s quieter.

The tension is Jared’s shoulders falls away, and he takes a step towards Evan, running a thumb over the back of Evan’s hand smoothly, placatingly. “That’s good.” He smiles, hiking his backpack up onto his shoulders, and Evan tries to mimic his excited expression. “So… I was thinking…”

“Yeah?”

“It’s Friday.” Evan nods slowly, trying to parse out what this all means. “And I realize, a few days ago, that we’ve never, really, like, gone out on a real date, right? So. I was thinking, today’s Friday, and…”

Evan looks at him for a while longer, trying not to come off as confused as he truly is.

Jared huffs, but it’s a fond huff. “Evan Hansen, do you want to go on a date with me tonight?”

“Oh! Oh!” Evan feels a bit lightheaded, suddenly, and his eyes widen. “Oh!” he repeats.

“If you don’t want to-”

“No, no, no, no,” Evan lunges outward, grabbing Jared’s hand between his, stepping into Jared’s space. “I’d-I’d love to. I’d really, really love to, that-” _I’ve never been on a date before._

Relief spreads over Jared’s face, and he squeezes Evan’s hand, leaning forward. He doesn’t kiss Evan, though, just whispers lowly, hotly into his ear, “I’ll pick you up at eight then, sound good?”

Evan’s brain feels slightly depleted of oxygen, and he’s surprised by the overwhelming feeling of want that spreads through his body, a want he hasn’t really felt before. “Sounds wonderful.” He nods, and it does sound wonderful. It sounds beyond wonderful. It sounds like everything he's ever wanted. 

Slowly, tantalizingly, Jared pulls away.

“I’ll see you then,” Jared replies, and his voice sounds giddy, an uncontrollable happiness spreading over his face.

“See you,” Evan murmurs as he watches Jared turn to leave, his eyes lingering.

For the first time all week, Evan feels like he can finally breathe normally again.

That feeling vanishes as soon as he arrives home. Firstly, his mother’s car is parked outside, something that never, ever occurs. He slowly makes his way indoors, trying to convince himself that maybe it’s nothing, maybe there just weren’t many patients today.

Softly, quietly, he glides into the house, checking his surroundings. Before he can relax, though, a door closes as his mother appears, looking haphazard and worn. “Evan.”

He pauses, “Hi, I didn’t-I didn’t think you’d be home so early.”

“I wasn’t planning on it.”

Evan shakes his head slowly, his eyebrows pulled, his voice soft, “Then why are you-”

“I got a phone call today, Evan.” And isn’t that the most menacing thing he’s ever heard.

“Oh?” He doesn’t want to say any more than that, doesn’t want to annoy her. His brain floods with all of the possibilities. It’s the school, calling about the one time he skipped a few weeks ago because it all became too much. It’s Mr. and Mrs. Murphy, calling to tell her that they finally figured out her son is the worst liar in the world and that she ought to have him locked up somewhere for the safety of society.

“It was your father.”

Instantly, tension rushes through his body. “I’m…”

“And you know I don’t normally take his phone calls, but this time-this time he said it was urgent, so I agreed, Evan, I agreed, and-and he said something about-about how your father must be so proud of you, because of all the great things you’re doing.” Heidi crosses her arms over her chest, “So I looked it up online, and I found not one or two, but multiple articles from international news sources, talking about you, about-about the Connor Program?”

“The Connor Project,” Evan corrects, his head still bowed.

“What-what is this? This Connor Project?”

“It’s no big deal-”

“Just tell me, Evan, please.” She sounds sad, desperate, and he realizes he’s messed up again, yet another time. Another mess-up to add to his long list of failures.

“I’m sorry.”

Heidi softens, and moves towards her only son. “Don’t be sorry, hun. Just-did you know this Connor Murphy, some of the websites said some things…”

He curses under his breath, the happiness that before filled his body dissipating. “I-” He can’t lie to her, not when she already knows the truth. “I lied when I said I didn’t know him, a while back, I’m sorry, I just didn’t know how to-to tell you.”

Slowly, his mom sits down, and Evan joins her, “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“I didn’t want you to worry.” Obviously, that doesn’t really make sense, because, obviously, she’s worrying right now, and, obviously, Evan’s a terrible liar and-

“You can trust me, Evan, darling, I’m here for you. And if I’m not here here, I’m just a phone call away. Or a text, or an email, or anything.”

“I know.”

“Please, honey, I worry about you.” Evan bites his tongue. A soft, sad expression spreads over her features, and Evan wants to leave. “Are you still good on your meds?”

Evan stands up, his body wired. “Every time I’m a little bit off doesn’t mean I’m off my meds!” _In this specific time, it does, actually,_ he reminds himself wearily, but he shoves the thought away. “Sometimes I just-I just don’t like being interrogated.”

“I’m not interrogating you, sweetie.” And she’s too good for him, she’s always been too good. She deserves something so much better than him, a happy, unified family. A son that’s normal and not a freak and not broken and falling apart and a failure.

He wants to get out of here, wants to escape all these thoughts. “I have to go to Jared’s.”

Then Heidi stands up, too, and she’s frowning. “I don’t think I really want you going out right now. We should sit down, talk about this, about everything.”

His breathing is coming in rapid gasps, “I promised-I promised Jared that I’d meet him at his house after school,” _another lie,_ “and I can’t just go around changing everything because you decide we need to talk.”

“What has gotten into you?” Her voice is angry, it’s angry, and Evan feels like he’s suffocating.

“Nothing! Nothing’s gotten into me!” His voice pitches high whenever he’s upset, sounding petulant and childish. Maybe that’s why people never seem to understand when he’s truly angry, when he’s honestly upset. He’s just an anxious kid, an anxious kid that gets too emotional and cries too much, and he’ll grow out of it, just you wait.

“Please, just talk to me, Evan!”

“I already told you, I just did, I-”

“I am your mother!” she yells, and Evan immediately shrinks, deflating, dissociating. _You aren't here, this isn’t happening._

They stand in silence for a few moments, as Heidi’s face falls. She holds her hands out in front of her, palms towards Evan, a sign of peace, of nonviolence. “Evan, honey, I’m so sorry you lost a friend, just, please-”

He pulls away from her, shaking his head back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, back and forth, _back and forth_.

He feels miles and miles away, underwater. His ears are numb, and he mumbles, his own voice sounding distant. “I have to go to Jared’s.”

Heidi falters, her hands now by her sides, twitching outwards, like she wants to hug him, to comfort him, to help him. “Okay,” she murmurs, a shell of herself. “Okay, just, text me when you get there?”

“I will.” He retreats further, his head still foggy, and moves to the door. “Goodbye,” he whispers, and he leaves. Goes as far and as fast as he can, with nothing in his pockets but his off-brand cell-phone. He's trying to escape, to run away, from the mess he's made.

By the time he arrives at Jared’s, his brain is clearer, the fog has dissipated. He knocks quickly, before he can start to worry if Jared will even want him here.

“Hello-Evan? It’s only 4 o’clock?” Jared looks more relaxed than he did in school, with his glasses lopsided and his hair rumpled. He's so handsome, so funny and entertaining and he's too good for Evan as well.

Jared takes one look at Evan and backs up, giving him space to enter the house. “My sisters are at gymnastics or whatever with my Mom…” He trails off, leading Evan upstairs to his bedroom.

He bends down when they get there, grabbing a few articles of clothing off the floor and tossing them into his closet, trying to tidy things up a little. Evan doesn’t even notice. “So,” Jared starts, his usual joking grin disappearing. “What’s going on?”

“My Mom, she-she asked me about Connor. Um, apparently my Dad heard about the Connor Project and called her, so now she knows now. Well, she knows the lie, now.” The words are coming out in a rush, spreading like a wildfire.

“I thought she already knew?” Jared asks, his voice laced with confusion.

“No, she didn’t, and it didn’t. She’s worried, and I kinda-I don’t know, it’s just. I didn’t want her to know, or-or anything, because-because if she finds out? About the lie? I can’t-I don’t think I can handle her-her being so _disappointed._ ”

“No, babe,” Jared moves closer to him, an arm around Evan's back, pulling him close. _Too good, too good, too good, too good._

“She won’t be disappointed. She’ll just be glad you told the truth. That’s all.” Evan continues to gnaw on his bottom lip until the skin threatens to break. Jared sighs, “Maybe it’s time for you to be honest, with everyone. Maybe that would make things easier. Stop all this worrying.”

“Honest?" he says, and his voice rings in his head. "Honest about what?”

“About Connor…” Jared leans over, his voice stretching out. “About how you didn’t really know him...”

“I don’t-I can’t. The Murphy’s-”

“Do you only ever think of the Murphy’s?”

“No!” Evan protests. “No, I don’t-I never-”

“You have to think about yourself, Evan," Jared continues, and he sounds like Dr. Sherman. "About your own well-being, you can’t just let them dictate the rest of your life!” Jared frowns.

“I don’t-I don’t do that.” Evan moves away from him, shrugging off his half-embrace.

“All you ever do is talk about them,” Jared says, and Evan wants that to be wrong, he wants to be able to argue, but he can't. “We’re here over and over again, and I--dammit, Evan, I don’t want to fight.”

“I know-I know, I’m-”

“I just… I really care about you, you just gotta let me.”

“I know, I’m _sorry,_ but I-”

“You have to understand where I’m coming from.”

“I-”

Jared starts talking over him again, starts going off again, and something inside of Evan snaps, “Stop interrupting me!” he yells, his voice louder than he’s ever heard. A feeling of relief rushes through Evan’s body, hot and silky. Immediately, it vanishes, replaced with all-consuming regret and maybe? And maybe some fear.

He bows his head immediately, training his eyes on the ground, placing his hands out, flat on the ground. His eyes sting. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to yell, I never do, I just-please, I’m sorry, please don’t… I didn't mean to yell at you.”

Jared doesn’t say anything, frozen in his place.

Evan’s breathing becomes more and more ragged; hollow, flighty breaths fill the space in his chest for just a moment. His vision begins to swim as he tries to brace himself. “I’m-if you want to break up with me, I mean, if we’re-if we’re even dating officially or whatever, that’s-that’s fine, I don’t-you can.” He tries to swallow but his mouth is too dry. “I understand.”

“I don’t want to break up with you,” Jared says from above, and his voice is quiet. 

_Quiet like the sky before a storm._ Evan tells himself.

Evan tries to blink, to clear his vision, but everything just gets more foggy as his eyes fill with tears. Everything except Jared’s hands, which are curled up into fists by his sides, knuckles white.

He can see those clearly.

He can see those too clearly.

Between gasping inhales, he tries to speak. “If you…” He squeezes his eyes shut and resists the urge to press his hands hard down over his ears, to shut out all this stimulation. “If you want to hit me, that’s okay.”

Jared’s entire body tenses, feeling like the room has just turned negative twenty degrees. “Wh-what?” he murmurs, trying to keep the panic out of his voice, the panic that’s quickly mounting in his body.

Evan’s shaking his head roughly, back and forth, back and forth, as tears begin to fully fall down his face. He gestures vaguely. “If you want.”

“I don’t-” Jared pulls away from Evan, far, far away, his hands clasped together, his arms across his chest. “I would never-”

Then, Evan’s eyes flick up to his, for the first time, finally, and Jared gasps at the desperation in them. Instantly, they flick back to the ground. “Oh,” Evan murmurs, and it’s devoid of any emotion Jared can recognize. Jared feels wetness begin to threaten his own eyes as he looks at this boy, this boy he's adored for so many years, falling apart right before his eyes. He feels-lost? Lost in a dark forest, trying to help a voice calling out but unable to find them.

Abruptly, it appears as though a wave of water crashes over Evan, and his entire body goes limp, his hands reaching out for Jared, “I-I didn’t mean to-I don’t think you would-obviously you wouldn’t-just, just if you did, I mean-I’m sorry, I don’t-I wasn’t thinking, I never think, I’m sorry for-obviously you wouldn’t-I just. I’m sorry.”

Jared gladly takes his hand, pressing the back of it to his lips gently, trying to solve this. “Please, Evan, you don’t have to keep saying that.”

“Yeah, I-sorry.” 

Jared’s expression contorts.

“I’m sorry-shit, um… Right.” Evan tries to chuckle, tries to defuse the situation, tries to make the last five minutes disappear. It doesn't work.

Slowly, carefully, Jared looks up at him, and Evan is taken aback by the pure sadness there. He realizes belatedly that Jared’s eyes are wet. He’s never seen the other cry before. It makes his heart seize. “If I ever-if I ever give you a reason to think that I would do-would do that, just… Tell me, stop me, or whatever, just… Please, Evan, please.” Evan doesn’t move, or respond, just clenches his jaw. “And,” Jared continues, “I will gladly murder whoever made you think that that would be…okay, in any way.”

Evan shakes his head, “No one-no one _made_ me think that, it’s just-” His lips pull back, his nostrils flaring as he tries to breathe deeply. “I know that I’m annoying a lot of the time, and it just-it just made sense?”

Jared doesn’t move. Horror spreads through his body. “You’re not annoying, Evan.”

But Evan doesn’t nod or agree, just pulls his hands away and wipes hurriedly at his cheeks, at the tears that are beginning to form anew in his eyes. “I know I am, you don’t have to lie to me.”

“I’m not lying to you, I’m not,” Jared looks up, trying desperately to get Evan to believe him. “God, Evan, I… I _love you_.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well!! I'm sorry for ending there, but this was going to be way, way too long otherwise. This conversation will continue next chapter! I'll update again ASAP! Please, please put your thoughts and comments below! They always make my day! <3 And, as always, all the love to you all!


	18. A Prayer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan and Jared talk. Then they stop talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wellllllllll. I've just gotten back from spring break, so I'm back on my writing schedule! This chapter is for Mimi, who's been wishing for something like this for some time now, and here it is.... Also, as Jared and Evan are both seniors, I'm going to say they're both 18 years old right now.
> 
> tw: suicide mention, self-hatred  
> cw: _sexual content_

“I’m not lying to you, I’m not,” Jared looks up, trying desperately to get Evan to believe him. “God, Evan, I… I _love you._ ”

After those words leave Jared’s mouth, he instantly realizes that they’re not something he threw around, not something he said in the heat of the moment, they’re true. It’s true. He loves Evan Hansen, and he has for many years.

Evan stares at him, stares right into his eyes, unmoving. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t even nod or really acknowledge him. Just stares.

“Evan?” Jared says, waving a hand in front of Evan’s eyes. “What’s going on?”

“You don’t love me,” the younger whispers, his voice ragged and low. “You just don’t.”

“Evan, I do, I’ll say it again-” Jared reaches out, grasping Evan’s face between his hands, feeling the soft skin underneath, and Evan’s watery eyes, hopeful eyes, meet his. “I love-”

A phone rings. Jared jumps, surprised, and Evan finally seems to pull out of his revery. He dives for the phone, cautiously staring at the number for a few moments, before rejecting the call and placing it back down onto the bed. “Who was that?”

Evan had memorized that number after the fiasco of a few weeks ago, lack of caller ID be damned. “Someone-” he coughs, clears his throat. “Someone I’d rather not talk to right now. Jared, I-”

The phone begins to ring again, and Evan turns off the ringer swiftly. Jared takes a deep breath, trying to calm his racing heartbeat and mind, which is currently panicking with the fact that _Evan hasn’t said anything back yet._ “Shouldn’t you get that?”

“Not-not really.” The phone starts to buzz incessantly.

“Look,” _buzz, buzz, buzz, buzz,_ “Just-” Jared reaches for the phone, flipping it open. “What do you want?” he hisses into the speaker, his voice stern. 

Evan scrambles towards him, trying desperately to peel the phone out of his hands. 

Jared lets go quickly, and Evan bolts to his feet, retreating to the edge of the room, hunching over.

The other line pauses, and it’s loud enough that Jared can hear it, slightly. “Who was that, Evan?” the voice demands.

“That was Jared,” Evan whispers, turning around, glancing over his shoulder at Jared for just a moment. “I told you about him a while ago…”

“Right. Of course,” the voice responds.

Evan turns back around, facing the wall with hunched shoulders. He isn’t wearing his shoes anymore, having taken them off when he arrived, and something about that image becomes too much. 

Standing there, shoulders turned inward, with a short t-shirt and roll-up pants, his bare socks against Jared’s wooden floors, Evan has become the picture of vulnerability.

When the voice doesn’t continue, Evan waits. He just stands there and waits, not interjecting any of his own thoughts into the conversation. Finally, the other line sighs and murmurs, “So? That Connor Murphy kid? I read something--what’s happening there?”

Evan shifts his weight between each foot, “There was-Connor Murphy was one of my closest friends.” When he is met with more silence, Evan slowly continues, “But, he committed suicide, and I wanted to do something to commemorate him, so I formed the Connor Project with a few of my other friends.”

Jared stares at him as he speaks. There’s something different, now, something careful. Evan is talking much more slowly than normally, placing out each word carefully. Jared realizes that he’s trying not to stutter.

“I gathered that much. And this Connor Murphy? I read some things about you two that I’d like you to explain.” The voice is clipped and hard, deep. It’s a man, Jared thinks, probably in his forties.

He watches as Evan reacts to the words, flinching away from the phone for a few moments, his eyes flicking around the room. “What things?”

“I don’t need to tell you that, do I?”

Evan coughs, and he slowly moves to the ground, a hand covering his face, his legs tucked underneath his body. “No, no, you don’t, I-” Jared can’t see his expression, but he knows enough to assume he’s biting on his lip right now. “He and I were friends.”

“And?”

“And we-I guess we, kind of, were more than friends, for a while.” Jared moves over, onto the ground as well, offering his comfort to Evan, who just shakes his head and turns away again. “Just for a while,” he whispers.

There’s silence on the other end. “You know I don’t approve.”

And that’s it. Five words that make Evan completely hunch, pulling even further away from Jared, shaking his head back and forth, back and forth. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, and, dammit, that’s not something he should be sorry for. 

Jared’s brow furrows, and he reaches out to comfort Evan, to do something, but Evan just keeps shaking his head. He isn’t crying, but his face is contorting in a way that means he’s trying very, very hard not to.

Evan’s scratching continuously at the skin just above his cast. Jared can see thin, red lines forming on the skin as Evan’s nails rake over it. Jared looks at the cast—truly looks at it—for perhaps the first time ever. It’s a neat thing, with clear rows of white gauze. He looks at the word, written in gigantic, sprawling letters written in black Sharpie. 

CONNOR. 

And now he knows why it’s there, knows that Evan didn’t just fall out of a tree. That he let go. That he wanted to leave this world. 

That Jared didn’t do anything to stop it.

He sees Evan, too, and suddenly, he can see Connor too. The kid wasn’t soft, not like Evan. They both have a hardness, though, a steel covering. Jared thinks that Evan’s is deep, deep inside, pressed down and contained in a silver cage, whereas Connor’s was his entirety.

So maybe he was a little afraid of Connor when the guy was alive. Firstly, he was a jerk, and violent—he pushed Evan, of all people, and was cruel to Zoe, who’s arguably the least deserving person of mistreatment in all of this. But Jared could always deal with jerks, no big deal.

It wasn’t about that, wasn’t about Connor’s personality or lack thereof. It was about something else.

Connor Murphy had this bizarre hold over Evan Hansen. 

Jared thinks he always did. 

Whenever he passed, Evan’s eyes were on him, scanning. There was never pity in Evan’s eyes, just…not curiosity, but something similar. This seemingly unexplained connection between the two.

Like they were made of the same cloth.

Like they were held together by magnetism.

Jared figures they probably talked about three times or so, once when Evan arrived at the school as a mandatory welcome, and twice before Connor killed himself. In that hallway, after Jared left, before Connor pushed him. Then in the computer lab, when he signed Evan’s cast.

He doesn’t know what happened there, what exactly transpired, but it was obviously important; Connor offed himself two days later.

Jared doesn’t want to think about that, though, doesn’t want to think about his last words to Connor—“You’re such a freak.”—doesn’t want to think about how he may have contributed to it all, doesn’t want to acknowledge the sinking guilt that’s been building like a hard crust on the outside of his soul.

Before he can, though, he’s knocked out of his tangent when Evan voice pierces the room’s cold air: “No, I know.” The words come out like a hiss, and Jared’s never really seen Evan like this.

Jared stares at him, trying to figure out what exactly he missed. “You don’t-” the other voice begins, but Evan interrupts him. 

“I know, I know.” Evan’s smiling this horrible non-smile and scratching and fidgeting, “I’m just the worst thing that ever happened to you, I know.”

“Son, I never- “ _Son?_ Oh my God, oh my God, this is Evan’s Dad, Jared realizes. The elusive figure, the man Jared’s wondered about for so long. This is him. On the phone. Telling Evan that he doesn’t “approve” of who Evan simply _is._

“You didn’t need to,” Evan mutters. 

“I just don’t think that you should be defining yourself so early, Evan. That girl, that girl from Spanish class, why don’t you ask her out? This could all just have been a passing fluke.”

Evan inhales swiftly, and his fingers are tensed, scratching and scratching, and suddenly, blood begins to leak from his arm. Evan looks down, stares at it, for just a few moment, watches as red begins to trickle into the clean white of his cast. He entire presence changes, and Jared can see anger coursing through his veins, anger Jared hasn’t really ever seen, not from this perspective. 

Jared grabs a few tissues from his bedside, kneeling down beside Evan and handing them to him. Doing anything to feel less helpless.

“How about,” Evan seethes. “How about, before you judge _me_ , you actually pay your child support on time for once?” There are noises of protest on the other line, but Evan plows onward. 

And that’s something Jared definitely wasn’t supposed to hear, wasn’t supposed to be present for. 

Evan takes the tissues from Jared and presses them into his arm, which quickly stops bleeding now that Evan’s nails are away from it. He looks at Jared, for just a moment, and he softens. The room changes. Jared isn't sure why, isn't sure what he did, but Evan's eyes are on him and they're not going away.

He turns back to the phone. “I have to go; I’m going out tonight with my new boyfriend. You may know him, his name is Jared Kleinman and he’s the love of my life.”

Evan shuts the phone, turning it off and placing it on the ground. “I’m sorry you had to hear that, he’s such a-“ Evan stops, his voice closing off. His eyes flick over to Jared, and all signs of anger disappear from his being, replaced instead with tension. “Shit, I didn’t mean to-I didn’t-”

“You love me back?” Jared murmurs, and Evan softens further.

“I-” Evan nods, his head moving rapidly, and Jared randomly notices that Evan must’ve skipped a haircut or two, because it’s beginning to get long enough to curl again. 

Jared moves forward, placing a hand on either side of Evan’s face, pulling him close, “You’re not the worst thing. To anyone. You’re the one-the only thing. The only thing. And if someone doesn’t see that? Then they don’t deserve you.” Tears are welling up in Evan’s blue-green eyes, but they aren’t tears of sadness. 

“And I love you, Evan Hansen.”

The other exhales, his warm, minty breath brushing across Jared; they’re so close together. His eyes are staring into Jared like he’s the one-the only thing as well. “I... I love you, too. I do.” And there’s a relief in his voice, a desperation, and he's smiling, because he never thought that could be true, that he would find someone, someone like this. "I love you so much, too.”

The words are barely out of his mouth when he presses his lips to Jared’s. He wraps his arms around Jared, around this boy, this kid, this person. The person. Who is funny, and can be sweet, and is strong and his own person, and he’s everything Evan ever wanted.

He realizes that it’s true, that he does love Jared, too, that maybe he has for so long that he didn’t even notice at first.

His mind is clear, filled only with _Jared, Jared, Jared._

A mantra.

A plea.

_A prayer._

They’re so close, closer than Evan ever thought was humanly possible. Everything is hot and wet, and one of Jared’s hands is in Evan’s hair and pulling, tugging him to the ground, and, God, it feels good. 

For once in his life, Evan just wants to feel good. He wants to feel goodness, fully, in his entirety.

The rest of the world falls away.

His back is pressed against this cold, hard wood beneath him, like a slab of ice against a growing fire.

There’s pulling and pushing and they’re moving against each other, this incredible friction, and it’s all so desperate. The air is thick with desire and…and need.

Jared’s weight is heavy on top of him, but it feels good, being pushed down, feels like he can finally breathe normally, which doesn’t-which doesn’t really make sense, he thinks, belatedly, but it’s true.

Every time they move apart to breathe, Jared whispers those three words over and over, like he’s been wanting to set them free for years on end.

Maybe he has.

The desire that was there before, that has been there ever since Jared kisses him that afternoon, overwhelms him. And it surprises him every time, it really does, because he’s never felt this way before, never felt this want, this need.

Evan’s tugging at Jared’s shirt, and he feels high. He feels above the world. He feels like an angel, watching from above, like nothing matters except for this.

He forgets about his mother. He forgets about his father. He forgets about all his lies, about Connor, about Larry and Cynthia and Zoe and Alana and the Connor Project and college and money and grade and school and pills and therapy and Dr. Sherman and those damn letters. He forgets about it all.

All Evan wants is to keep going.

All Jared wants is for this to never end.

He tosses Jared’s shirt across the room as Jared’s fingers begin to shakily undo the buttons of Evan’s. 

Evan flips them over, disconnecting their lips. He hooks one leg onto either side of Jared’s body, holding himself up with the muscles of his thighs, and lets Jared pull his shirt off. 

He doesn't quite know how they ended up here, how this is all happening so quickly, but he feels _good_.

A part of him freezes as the cold air strikes his bare skin. The same part wants to run far, far away from this all and go back to hiding, to not talking, to not doing any of this. Wants to grab his shirt back and put it back on, wants to shrink further.

But Jared’s hands trace over his skin like he’s made of pure marble, like he’s perfect, or beautiful—two traits that Evan knows he doesn’t possess.

And there’s a look in his eyes that Evan can’t understand, and he doesn’t want to ruin this.

He doesn’t want to let that part of him win.

He doesn’t want to stop. And neither does Jared. And nothing is stopping them.

So, they don’t stop. 

They keep going.

Evan runs his own hands over Jared’s broad chest, looking down at the reddening skin of the body underneath him, and Jared’s arms twitch, like he wants to cover himself up, too, like he wants to hide as well.

Evan begins to place kisses into the skin before Jared can, his hands gripping onto Jared’s soft, plush hips. He moves down, shimmying further, and presses open-mouthed kisses into Jared’s stomach, to the side of his belly-button. 

He watches out of the corner of his eye as Jared’s hands try to grip at the smooth ground, trying to find some way to ground himself, and fail.

There's something Evan really, really wants to do.

Jared tries to slow his heartbeat, because he’s almost sure that he’s gonna have a heart-attack. Because Evan Hansen is pushing his legs apart and moving in-between them. And he’s kissing and nipping and putting his tongue on Jared’s stomach.

His _stomach._

Jared’s never been immune to self-consciousness, and sometimes he feels so attacked by all those images of washboard abs and muscled chests that he doesn’t know what to do--because he doesn’t look like that. He’s never looked like that.

But Evan does. He’s a really skinny guy, with prominent hip and collar bones, and Jared can see his ribcage and flat stomach. Evan’s thin and toned, with muscles sticking out here and there from climbing trees and hiking and whatever it is Evan does. Evan’s pretty tall too, or at least taller than Jared is, and he’s got this bone structure that Jared may be obsessed with. He’s just, so gorgeous.

And Jared feels like-thinks that... Well, sometimes he wonders what Evan sees in him, is all. 

But Evan’s lavishing kisses over the stomach Jared’s always hated, and that consciousness, that fear, that worry, disappears.

Part of him is so fucking nervous, worrying if they should be doing this-if this'll change everything. He wonders how the hell they've gotten here, how they've gotten here so quickly, how just a few minutes ago, they were both on the verge of tears, and he knows this is all very strange and new and-

But most of him just feels _c r i m s o n._

Jared looks down, and he can see the top of Evan’s head and those little curls forming in Evan’s hair. And Evan’s long, long fingers as they begin to undo the button of his pants.

He wants to rest his head against the ground, close his eyes, and just feel, but he can’t bring himself to look away. 

Jared’s laying on the ground, which arguably isn’t the most comfortable place to be, but he doesn’t really care, in just his gray, faded underwear, and-

Evan’s eyes flick up to him, and Jared gasps, because-because it’s indescribable. These eyes, looking up at him with blown pupils, and he realizes that Evan wants this just as much as he does.

A smile spreads across both of their faces. “Is this okay?” Evan whispers, his breath hot against Jared’s pelvis.

Jared loves Evan so damn much.

“I literally cannot think of something more okay,” Jared replies, and his voice sounds wrecked, beyond wrecked. He tries to clear his head, tries to think normally and get rid of this hot fog in his brain, clearing his throat. “Um, is this-is this okay with you?”

Evan nods quickly, “Definitely. Definitely okay. Great, in fact, just, one moment-” Where did this Evan come from, this sure, determined Evan?

His boyfriend (!) moves upwards onto his hands and knees, before— _oh my God_ —he’s touching Jared overtop of the thin fabric with those long fingers and that palm, and he’s pulling down Jared’s underwear. Then Jared’s laying on the ground and he’s completely naked, and. Oh. My. God. This is not what Jared's imagined would happen, not what he ever let himself think would happen, but it's happening and he's-he's a bit confused, but Evan'a eyes are so dark and there's no way in Hell he's gonna stop this.

Evan licks a long, broad stroke over his palm, and then that same hand is wrapping around Jared and pulling and tugging and moving until Jared’s mind begins to go completely blank, because, fuck, he’s so hard. He's never wanted anything as much as he wants this, right now.

Evan grabs one of Jared’s hands, and raises it to his head. Instantly, the fingers thread through his hair. “You don’t have to, like, just-um. Yeah. Stay there?”

Jared nods and tries to remember everything he’s ever learned about about self-control.

Because then Evan’s mouth is on him and Jared forgets how to breathe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ahhhhhhhhhhhh... This is the first specifically sexual thing I've written, so hopefully it worked? I felt as though it was natural and sensible, at this time, and pretty in-character. This is also an important and necessary plot point!
> 
> I've been wanting to get into more details about this all as Evan and Jared's relationship expands and, as many relationships do, becomes more sexual, because I think that's an important aspect of their relationship. The healthiness of this all and whether or not they should be doing any of this, especially at this specific time, is very, very questionable. 
> 
> Hopefully, I expressed enough of each of their inner thoughts to make why they did this clear and obvious on a character-based level. 
> 
> Tell me your thoughts belowwwww!!


	19. Maybe

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The rest of the entire world could've been on fire, could've been ablaze with gigantic, crimson sparks and sickening dry heat. But, in those moments, Evan wouldn’t have noticed.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the girls are back!!! special shout-out to everyone who commented last chapter for making me feel so supported and amazing! you all mean so much to me!!
> 
> cw: swearing, light sexual content. (it ends at "Evan wouldn't have noticed," if you want to skip it!)

“Jesus fucking Christ, save me now,” Jared murmurs, plopping his head down against his pillow, his heart still pounding, his muscles weak. 

After a few moments beforehand, they were forced to migrate to the bed for the sake of Jared’s back and Evan’s knees, which is where they now reside blissfully.

Evan moves up next to Jared, a grin across his face, his lips bright red and glistening wetly. He chuckles, whispering between quick breaths, “Jared, you’re Jewish.”

Jared stretches out to connect their lips. Evan sighs into the kiss, feeling uncontrollably warm, unable to stop smiling. 

Then, Jared pulls away for just a moment, looking at his boyfriend and laughing, “You are too, Hansen.”

Evan kisses him again, smoothly, savoring the feeling of it all, before resting his head onto Jared’s chest, his ear pressed against Jared’s pounding heart. He begins to trace figures over Jared’s skin, on his stomach. Jared runs his fingers through Evan’s loose hair, stroking the side of his face, and it’s all so soft. 

The older boy closes his eyes, contemplating, then pauses. “Are you-” he sits up slowly. “Are you drawing trees on me?”

Evan glances up, continuing to move his fingers in clear, smooth strokes, “Maybe…” Evan scooches upward, pressing his nose into the corner of Jared’s jaw. “They were oak trees. Can you tell? The wide base and tapered top.” He pauses for a second as Jared opens his mouth, “Jared, don’t.” He chuckles. “I know what you were gonna say, and I’m not gonna let you.”

Jared chuckles, stretching overhead, before leaning into Evan and pressing yet another kiss to his lips. They really are beautiful lips, Jared thinks. Full. 

He sits up further, blinking slowly, his mind still dazed from a few moments ago. “Wait… As much as I appreciated everything that came after it, why did you come here early?”

Evan leans over the bed, going to grab his crumbled button-down from the ground, before tensing. “Um, it’s just-my Mom asked me about Connor, it’s not-I’ll figure it out. It’s not a big deal or anything, just… Don’t worry about it; I do enough worrying for the both of us.”

Jared wraps his arms around Evan, pulling his back right against Jared’s chest, grabbing the t-shirt from Evan and tossing it back onto the ground, not yet finished with all this. 

“That you do.” 

He skims his hands down Evan’s chest, running over the hint of body hair that’s emerging. Evan’s breathing gets rougher, the bone of his sternum pressing into Jared’s hands.

As he presses his lips into the freckles littering Evan’s shoulders, Jared realizes that he’s never seen this much of Evan. 

“I didn’t know you had freckles,” he whispers, feeling as shivers run down Evan’s spine. 

He can see Evan’s throat working, his heading tipping backwards. “Uh…” Evan breathes, biting down hard on his lower lip. “Yeah… I guess. Um…” 

Jared’s about to ask what’s wrong when the fog in his brain finally dissipates. “Wait,” he touches Evan’s face, meeting his gaze. Those blown-out eyes. A small noise escapes from the back of Evan’s throat as he turns back to face Jared fully. “I completely spaced out,” Jared says, “I'm sorry.”

“No, it’s-it’s-” His voice fades out as Jared pushes him back down onto the bed. “Fine…”

His hair is loose around his head, framing his face beautifully as possible. Jared rests one hand on the nape of his neck, running his tongue across Evan’s bottom lip. He immediately opens his mouth further, and, okay, now they’re really making out. And also there’s a few images that are probably never going to leave Jared’s head, and a lot, if not all, of them involve Evan’s mouth and the last twenty minutes.

And now he’s really, seriously kissing that mouth, and to be honest it’s all a bit overwhelming. 

As Jared’s hands begin to snake down, undoing Evan’s khakis and swiftly tugging them down, Evan huffs, “Ah." He pushes up into Jared’s chest. “I’m-uh? You don’t have to-”

“I want to,” Jared tells him, kissing the bottom of Evan’s throat languidly, smoothly. “As long as you want me to,” he adds on, because that’s very important as well.

Evan turns his head to the side, giving Jared further access to the base of his throat. “Yeah, yeah. Yeah, I want to, I really want to, and-and-” He swallows, and Jared muses about the fact that he can feel the movement. “You can-you can leave a mark, there, if you want, um, my shirts are normally-normally high enough that I don’t think...” His voice fades off as Jared’s hand reaches the front of his underwear. “Anyone would notice,” he finishes breathily.

Jared’s been pining after Evan for roughly five or six years, and he can get a bit jealous, so, sure, the idea of marking Evan like that is kinda appealing. The idea of Evan wanting him to, though is...much more appealing. 

Evan likes the idea of being able to look in a mirror and see it. See that Jared wants him, wants him like this, wants this just as much as Evan does. It’ll be a nicer reminder, he thinks, a confidence boost.

Also, the feeling of Jared’s mouth against the sensitive skin is luxurious. The occasional scrape of teeth, quickly followed by the soothing brush of his tongue.

Evan tries to calm his racing heart as he stares at the ceiling above, his eyes glassing over. He can smell Jared’s shampoo and body wash, something woody. Something like the trees on a hot summer night.

Evan relaxes further into the bed. 

He can feel Jared all over him. Jared’s lips and teeth and tongue against his neck. One of Jared’s hands by Evan’s hand. The other one skidding across the top of his briefs.

Evan feels like Jared leaves a red-hot shadow across his skin wherever he goes.

So, okay, Evan is a teenager. He has a libido, he has an interest in this all, he enjoys it. He just doesn’t do anything like this often, not even on his own. There’s a lot of confusion in his mind about the whole sexual process.

He doesn’t really like picturing people, because one time, a while ago, back when he had a major crush on her, Zoe Murphy arrived in his mind while he was trying to get off, and it felt so wrong that he had to stop. Because. Because what would she have thought? If she knew? It just felt wrong, like he didn’t have permission to be thinking about her that way.

And after that, there was Charlie. Charlie. The first person he ever shared a mutual orgasm with, and, yes, it was very, very pleasant, and Evan learned a lot. It was nice. It felt good. But that all ended so horribly that obviously he’s not going to think about Charlie in that way any more.

Who else was there? Before Jared? No one, really. He couldn’t just think about a random person during it all, or look at pictures or whatever, because--well, he just couldn’t. It didn’t really work like that for him. It _doesn’t_ really work like that for him. He only really ever thinks this way about people he knows, people he trusts.

Here he is, with Jared touching him and kissing him and-. And Evan can still taste Jared in his mouth, and-and it’s very, very nice. He likes knowing that he can do that to Jared, that he can turn him on, that he’s desirable. He likes feeling Jared vibrate beneath him, hearing Jared trying to quiet the noises that emerge from the back of his throat. He likes being able to make him come with just his mouth and his hands. He likes how Jared kisses him afterwards, which Charlie never did. 

He likes it all.

It was easy, it was fun. He knew what he was doing and he knew that he was doing it well.

This, though, being on the receiving end of this affection, is much, much more terrifying. Because what if he isn’t reacting correctly, what if he isn’t saying the right things or moving in the right way or-

“You okay?” Jared whispers, breaking Evan’s continuous stream of thoughts. “You’re breathing a bit weirdly.”

“No, no, I’m-” Evan inhales quickly, his chest filling, “You can keep going.” He closes his eyes completely, blocking out the extra stimulation, trying to focus only on the touches moving across his skin. “I trust you.”

Evan can’t see him, but he thinks Jared is smiling. “And I trust you, too.”

Jared pushes up, moving to get better leverage. He puts his mouth right next to Evan’s ear, whispering into it warmly. “You want me to use my mouth?”

A breath catches in Evan’s chest, and he tries to focus on the little things in life, on song lyrics and sunsets, tries to return his heart-rate to a more normal tempo. “Um, yes. Yes. Yes." He swallows, "But-but could you, right now, just-” He turns to kiss Jared, wanting that connection again, opening his mouth languidly, before: “Just stay up here with me.”

“Okay,” Jared nods, “Do you have any...like, lotion or something, to make it...smoother.” 

“Oh!” Evan’s eyes fly open. “Yeah, yeah, there should be some in my bag.”

Jared grins at him as he reaches over to grab it off the floor, digging around until he locates it. “My, my, Evan Hansen, what have you been up to?”

“No, no, it’s just,” Evan starts to move up, to defend himself, but Jared just keeps grinning. “I have really dry hands, well, the backs of them at least, and I have to put it on every morning to keep them from bleeding when it’s this temperature. So, it’s not-it’s not for _that_.” 

It actually is the truth, but Jared just fixes him with another dubious smirk.

“Of course, of course. Now, where were we? Right. We’ve been making out for like an hour, and you’ve got quite the restraint.”

Evan’s actually so turned on it’s beginning to hurt, but he decides not to mention that. He just shrugs vaguely in response and goes to kiss Jared again.

He really does enjoy kissing. A whole lot. It’s so smooth and satisfying and it just. Feels good in this simple way that he can’t really describe. Like a good song on a quiet Thursday evening. Like the feeling of soft, spring wind flowing through your hair. 

Like the smell of the woods.

His eyes flutter shut again, and he tries to focus on moving with Jared’s mouth when suddenly he’s naked on the bed, too. 

And then Jared’s hand is on him, silky from the lotion, smoothly moving and pulling.

Evan has never been more glad that Jared’s little sister still does gymnastics, and that therefore no one else is here, than when he moans into Jared’s mouth.

The rest of the entire world could've been on fire, could've been ablaze with gigantic, crimson sparks and sickening dry heat. But, in those moments, Evan wouldn’t have noticed.

\--------------

Alana stares ahead at the table, glancing around from face to face. She and Zoe were innocently hanging out upstairs, enjoying each other’s presence, talking, kissing, having fun. Until, suddenly, they were called downstairs. Now, she’s sitting at the dinner table as Zoe’s parents try not to stare at her too much.

She wonders what they know. 

Zoe hasn’t told them anything, apparently, and they’ve been very, very careful, but Alana thinks that they’re smart people, capable of having suspicions themselves.

Cynthia begins to pass out food around the table, serving everyone neatly, still dressed in clean-cut, sophisticated attire. With a cardigan, as always. 

Alana likes Cynthia, she truly does. She’s a kind woman, obviously suffering yet continuing to put others before herself. Of course, she could have made some improvements in her treatment and opinion of her late son, but Alana will never be able to truly understand what everyone was going through while Connor was under this roof. Zoe has told her too many stories, but there’s always something that doesn’t add up.

Larry clears his throat, “So. How’s Evan been? He wasn’t able to make it today, I see.”

Alana notices that, too: Larry’s growing interest in Evan. Cynthia’s as well. How they’ve almost accepted him as a less violent, less addicted version of Connor. A new, improved son. One that’s already (mostly) fully functioning. 

One they don’t have to actually provide for.

One that still says “Please” and “Thank you” at every turn.

One that conveniently disappears every evening.

It makes her uncomfortable, and a bit sick, to be honest. 

She loves Evan, she truly does, and she loves Zoe more than anything else in the world, she just wishes that it wasn’t all so complicated, that it wasn’t all so toxic.

Zoe grabs a gluten-free bread roll, ripping it apart slowly. “I think he’s at Jared’s.”

“They’re going through a bit of a rough patch, I believe,” Alana further explains, at Cynthia’s confused expression. “They’re trying to mend things.”

Cynthia nods slowly, “Well I hope they do.”

Zoe glances at her girlfriend, a tight expression on her face. “Yeah,” she replies, her voice thick with everything that’s left unsaid.

Cynthia smiles that fruity sweet smile, turning to Alana, “They both work with you on the Connor Project, right?”

“Yes!” Alana smiles back, no longer feeling out of her depth. “Jared is the Treasurer. He’s actually very good with numbers.” She nods, picking up her fork and beginning to eat as well.

“It’s a beautiful thing they’re doing. Right, Larry?” Mrs. Murphy turns to her husband, who nods slowly.

Alana can still see the tension in their relationship, the strain of it all. 

She coughs lightly, “Yes. Remembering all the amazing times he and Evan went there... A beautiful way to memorialize your son, truly.”

Larry cocks his head to the side. “All the ‘times’ they went there? I believe it was just the once.”

Alana furrows her brow, “Evan mentioned going there with Connor multiple times to me…” She trails off, her voice faltering.

Zoe shakes her head, turning to face her girlfriend. "That time, when Evan broke his arm, I think that was the only time they went.”

Cynthia smiles at her, but now it’s strained, as her eyes roam to meet her husband’s, an unrecognizable expression on her face. “Maybe you misheard?”

Alana looks around the table, cautiously, trying to defuse the tension. “Maybe. Yeah. I probably did.”

But Alana Beck knows what she heard. She knows exactly what she heard.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love them all so much. But. This is the angst train. Choo-choo.
> 
> Thank you all so much for reading, and I'd love to hear your thoughts and opinions below!! Thank you, and all the love <3


	20. If So...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> She recalls the feeling of Evan's body underneath her arms as she pulled him to his feet that day, how airy he was, almost like a bird, trapped to the ground with a broken wing and weak bones.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter!! here's protective!alana and some galaxy gals backstoryyyyy

“What time is it?” Jared murmurs, reaching over to the bedside and snatching his cell phone. “5 o’clock. Okay. We still have time.” 

Evan watches as Jared places it back onto the table, the stretch of his back. There’s little scarring from acne across Jared’s shoulders, and somehow that just endears him to Evan more. “Time for what?” he questions, still trying to normalize his breathing. Because. Damn. That just happened.

Jared turns back to him, kissing him softly, lightly, “Our date, of course.”

“Oh.” That had escaped from Evan’s mind. “Oh! Where are we going?” His mind races with possibilities, hoping dearly that is wasn’t somewhere expensive, because then? He does not want to have to deal with those emotions or that inevitable conversation.

Jared grabs a blanket from his bed and wraps it around himself quickly, as though suddenly realizing the true state of his nakedness. Evan pulls up the bed sheet around himself, quickly becoming more and more self-conscious.

“It’s a surprise,” Jared supplies, which isn’t exactly encouraging, but then he sits back down beside Evan. “Just texted my Mom, and she probably won’t be back with Rachel until an hour or so.”

“Yeah?”

Jared raises his eyebrows, tracing his fingernails down Evan’s arms, before pulling back away. “So, maybe we could clean up a bit, you know, get ready, and then…” 

Evan wants to re-establish that physical connection instantly, wants to drape himself across Jared and never let go, wants to feel Jared’s heat again and make that connection and tell himself that everything is alright and solid and certain. “And then…”

Jared looks at him for a few moments, before reaching out and pulling Evan flush against his chest, his hand resting on the back of Evan’s head. The younger tilts his head into the crook of Jared’s neck, because suddenly he feels cold, he feels so cold, and he feels like Jared is the only warm thing here, only warm thing on this planet, this galaxy. 

Jared sighs, “Whatever we want.”

Evan blinks rapidly, and he feels part of his chest constricting tightly, as he continues to clutch Jared tighter. He’s never had this before, he’s never had someone hug him like this, clutch him this tightly. He’s never had any of that. He’s always wanted something like that, wanted it so badly that it started to eat at his insides, wanted it so badly that it hurt, that he couldn’t ever admit to himself that he wanted it.

And now, now he has it--or at least, he thinks he does. And it’s right there, in front of him, and he wants to believe it’s true, but there’s still this part of him worrying away at his protective casing. So he hugs Jared tighter, tries to compensate for that part of him.

Jared turns to the side, his hand still carting through Evan’s hair, “You okay?”

He clears his throat roughly, trying to breathe again, “Yeah, I am.” He pulls away, not wanting to be a burden, scratching at his cast. “I just-really.” He smiles, and it’s this sort of desperate smile that’s only seen on people who so deeply crave happiness. “I’m just really glad that-that you’re here. And that I’m here… That we’re here, together.”

Jared’s jaw clenches, and he looks down at Evan’s hands, his eyes soft. “Me too.” They look at each other for a moment, before it all just becomes too much, way too much. “Um, I can-or you can go shower and clean up and then-and then get ready, and we’ll leave.”

“Or we can go together.” Jared pauses again, “If you want.”

Evan blinks, “You keep saying that.”

“Well,” Jared frowns, his eyebrows low, “It’s important.”

“Yeah, yeah, I know, it’s just…” Evan blinks a few more times, tries to figure out what exactly is going on in his head. He feels winded, tired, slightly drained. And also more alive than he has felt in years. It’s a confusing feeling, one he doesn’t entirely understand. “It’s nice, I guess.”

Jared nods, his frown fading, but there’s a hint of something else in his eyes, something left unsaid. “So, that was your Dad, on the phone, before…?”

Evan fumbles for a moment, “Yeah, yeah that was. He’s-we don’t have to talk about that.” He reaches for his cell phone, slowly turning it on. How ‘bout you go and shower first, and then I’ll go in after?” 

It’s a bit of a test, checking for wiggle room, for freedom of motion and choice. “Sounds perfect.” Jared stands, but he can see the way Evan’s face drops as he begins to scroll through his new messages, “We good?”

Evan smiles, but it’s a strained expression, one that doesn’t entirely reach his eyes, as he looks down at his new voicemail. “We’re perfect.”

\----------

Alana has spent a lot of time in the past few days thinking about Evan Hansen. She remembers when they first met each other, back before all of Evan’s time was occupied by Jared Kleinman instead. She remembers seeing him, this boy, this fidgeting and tense boy with eyes that swept across every single room he occupied. She saw herself reflected in him.

Alana has always struggled with anxiety. She doesn’t struggle with it the same way Evan does, of course, but she struggles all the same. She doesn’t stutter or fear public speaking, but she does lay awake at night, her mind racing, replaying everything she said that day, every response she’s gotten, everything. Her mind catalogues every dirty expression people throw her when they think she isn’t looking.

She’s very good with numbers as well, perhaps too good. They constantly race around her mind, every score on every test in her memory, throwing themselves around her brain. It’s all too much, that it’s all too loud. 

Her father proclaims how proud of her he is, what a wonderful, intelligent, passionate daughter he has. How lucky he is. 

She certainly doesn’t feel lucky. She feels suffocated, the weight of all these possibilities, of all this potential, crushing down on her, getting heavier and heavier with every step forward.

Extracurricular upon extracurricular, a 4.8 QPA, and yet? That part of her brain whispers, _Why not join four more clubs? Why don’t you have a 5.0? Why don’t you try harder, work longer?_

_Suffer more?_

Alana Beck dreads free time, dreads inactivity, because think of all the things you could be doing, think of all the things you could be accomplishing, think of how much time you’re wasting, of how much life you’re wasting, the average lifespan of a Black woman is 78 years old and you’re seventeen, so that’s ⅕ of your life. Gone. Wasted. And what do you have to show for it? Nothing. Just a string of “could-have-been’s.”

She doesn’t want to be a “Could Have Been.” She wants to _be._

She knows she can, knows that she has the potential, to do it all, to get into the best college possible, to become solidified and successful and everything, but what if--what if all she amounts to is wasted potential? 

_What if all you amount to is wasted potential._

What about that?

So she studies, every day and every night, studies relentlessly and continuously, leading every club she can think of, maxing herself out until she knows that nothing is wasted.

All the while, she wonders--well, she wonders about a lot of things.

About how when she was nine years old, she walked down to a local restaurant with her father, sitting down softly at a booth in the corner. Her eyes roamed over the room, until they landed. On this woman, this woman with thick, curly hair, cut around her jawline, wearing a pair of faded overalls and Converse shoes, with a fresh, makeup-free face, skin that almost glows in the lights above. Suddenly, she wanted to just- Know this woman? Be like this woman? Be _with_ this woman.

Alana came out to her family at the age of fifteen, and she’s essentially out at school, in her own manner: if anyone were to ask, she would tell them the truth, not hide, but no one has bothered to ask. She leads their GSA, a humble group of six. 

Nothing ever feels like enough. None of it. Not the perfect grades or the perfect transcript, because all she’s ever wanted is something to make her feel like she isn’t going to be trapped alone in this world for years, floating around in a bottomless, edgeless, sightless space, for all of eternity.

She wants _more._

That more appears one day in her AP Chemistry class junior year. Sitting next to her, with her hair tied behind her head in a thick ponytail, her expression relaxed. “Hey,” she shoves her bag underneath the desk, slowing pulling out a blank notebook and a pencil, before turning to fully face Alana. “I’m Zoe Murphy.”

“Hello.” Alana blinks at the girl’s bright smile and hopeful demeanor. An underclassman, Alana recognizes instantly. Sophomores who have completed the prerequisite course are invited to attend. “I’m Alana Beck.”

“Nice to meet you,” Zoe seems to be about to turn back around to the front, but then a thought rushes through Alana’s mind.

“Connor Murphy’s sister, by any chance?”

Zoe rolls her eyes, her smile disappearing. Alana tries not to think about how much she suddenly misses it. “Yeah. Don’t trust anything he’s said about me, though. Guy’s a psychopath.”

“Oh? How so?” Personal question, personal question, so personal way too personal-

“He just is, you know. Can’t really explain it.” Her expression grows sour, turned, like she’s regretting having started this conversation with Alana. And Alana thinks that’s it, thinks she’s ruined it all, that there’s no chance of resurrection, but then. 

Then, about a week later, Zoe slips her a piece of paper with a 11-digit number written across it and the words “Text me.”

So Alana does. And Zoe texts back. 

They go to a concert downtown, a concert with flashing, multicolor lights and smooth music, and Alana’s heart beats so fast that she feels high, with Zoe’s hands falling to her hips and her arms wrapped around Zoe’s shoulders, as she suddenly realizes that this is it.

There’s a flash of lilac light above, cascading down Zoe’s features, brightening everything around them. It’s a mass of people, dancing people, loving people, and, for once, Alana doesn’t feel overwhelmed. All she sees, all she feels, all she hears is Zoe, Zoe, _Zoe._

Zoe kisses her underneath those lights, bathed in lilac, and neither of them ever turn back, feeling the hearts of angels on their shoulders.

Here Zoe is now, her thigh resting against Alana’s underneath the tables, their eyes elsewhere but their energy turned towards one another. Abruptly, Alana’s cell begins to ring. The Murphy’s turn to her as she scrambles to grab it, “Sorry, sorry, sorry,” she whispers, flipping it open. “Jared?”

“Hi, Alana.” He sounds a bit tired.

“What’s going on? Are you with Evan?” Everyone’s ears seem to perk up, leaning forward around the table.

“Yeah, yeah, everything’s fine. I was just wondering about Evan’s Dad? He called a while ago, and I’m just wondering if you have any info about it all, or whatever, ‘cause it seemed to disturb him a bit, so.”

Her brain floods with images of Evan laying on the ground, his hands and knees covered in dirt, tears streaming down his face, a phone clenched in his hand, that one evening. His voice from that evening vibrates in her mind _“I’m so sorry,” his hands clutching the back of her shirt between his fingers. “I’m so sorry, Alana, I’m so sorry, I’ve been a horrible friend, I’m a horrible friend, and I’m sorry, I shouldn’t, I’m sorry.”_ The desperation in his voice reverberates through her mind, along with his refusal to believe that he wasn’t a nuisance, wasn’t an inconvenience. 

“I know a bit, I guess. I can-”

“It’s not a big deal or anything, he’s fine. I’m just curious.”

Alana stands up, placing her napkin back on the table. “Trust me, if it’s Evan’s father, it’s not fine. Are you two at your house?”

Jared huffs, “We are, but it’s not big deal, Alana, don’t worry about it, just-”

“I’ll see you in a few, Jared.” She hangs up, as Zoe turns to her, standing up as well.

“You want me to come with you?” Zoe asks.

“You don't have to, just... Enjoy dinner, okay?”

Zoe nods carefully, cautiously returning to her place at the table, her hand aching to be wrapped around her girlfriend's.Every time Alana turns to Zoe, her dark eyes so deep, Zoe wonders how in the world she ever got so lucky. “Text me?” Her voice has an edge to it, weighed down with everything left to subtext.

Alana glances at Zoe’s parents, “Of course.” 

She resists the urge to pull their daughter in and kiss her goodbye.

\----------

Alana knocks on Jared’s front door, repetitively, huffing, until finally it swings open. “Can I come in?” She asks, her voice hard as she takes in Jared's appearance. He's wearing a nice collared shirt with dark blue slacks. His hair is still wet, with his glasses thrown on haphazardly.

Jared glances around, his expression concerned, before standing aside, “Yeah, yeah, come on in.”

“Is Evan here?” Alana questions, glancing around the house, waiting to she him appear out of thin air, hoping he doesn't have the same expression on his face as he did that day all those weeks ago.

Jared begins to gnaw at his bottom lip, leading her into his bedroom, “He’s just taking a shower; he slept over last night.” The lie rolls off his tongue without much hesitation, but Alana still shoots him a sceptical look.

“I worked with him on the Orchard last night, so I can’t imagine how that would’ve happened.”

“Right. Um, well-”

Alana sighs, her eyes closing for a moment, the thought that’s been rooting itself in her brain for months finally shooting outward. “If you’re sleeping with him-”

“I’m not!” Jared yells, his hands flying out, before freezing, glancing around, and lowering his voice. “I’m not sleeping with him,” He hisses.

Alana has known Jared Kleinman for more years than she can remember, so she knows when he's lying. He tenses around the eyes, like he's squinting, and scratches at the back of his head.

She clenches her eyes shut, pressing a palm to her forehead, “Oh my God, Jared.”

“No, no, look, just, can you come sit down? Please.”

Slowly, Alana complies, only because Jared sounds so desperate. She tightens her jaw, her tongue running across her teeth, before leaning towards Jared. “We’ve known each other for about ten years, Jared.”

“We have,” Jared agrees.

“But if you mess with Evan, don’t think I won’t go after you.” 

She recalls the feeling of his body underneath her arms as she pulled him to his feet that day, how airy he was, almost like a bird, trapped to the ground with a broken wing and weak bones.

Jared’s face contorts, “I’m not messing with Evan! I’m not-”

“He’s in a very vulnerable place right now-”

“Come on!” Jared’s eyes roll back, and his shoulders tense instantly. “Connor’s death was _months ago_ , Alana.” 

Instantly, the entire room freezes, before Jared lurches forward, “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“You did.”

Jared clenches his jaw and tries not to scream that Evan didn’t even know Connor to begin with, he didn’t, he never did, and he doesn’t, he’s not in a vulnerable emotional place right now because of the death of some kid he spoke to once. 

He doesn’t respond, just looks away and bites his tongue.

Alana sighs, and she doesn’t look angry anymore. She just looks tired. “If you’re using him-”

“I’m not using him!” Jared protests, his voice pitching upwards. “I’m not using him,” he says again, at a slightly lower volume. “I’m not.

She crosses her arms over her chest, looking at him expectantly. 

Jared sighs, running a hand through his hair, “I love him, Alana. I _love_ him.”

Before Alana has time to fully react, the sound of running water stops altogether, and they can faintly hear a shower curtain being pulled back. The bathroom door opens. Evan emerges.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Alana so much <3 <3 Also, things are happening!! Oooh! I wasn't planning on ending this chapter right there, but it would've been way, way too long otherwise!! Leave thoughts and comments below, you beautiful people!!


	21. Thank You

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Guilt sears through his body, burning like a hot poker.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The italics are either memories from Chapter 9 or thoughts!

Evan scans the room, slowly, and he takes a step towards Jared, his eyes roaming over his boyfriend’s form, trying to dissect the situation at hand. He blinks a few times, clutching the towel tighter around his waist, “Alana?” He sends a panicked look to Jared, who just makes a pained expression.

Jared seems to find the wooden floors rather fascinating, until, finally realizing his boyfriend’s current state. Jared immediately springs up, moving towards Evan, “Um… Should I just grab you some of my clothing, or...?”

Evan drapes an arm over his chest, trying to cover more of himself up, “I don’t really have anything else with me, so…”

Silence spreads across the room.

He loves Alana, he really does, and it’s nothing to do with her; he’d be uncomfortable half-naked in front of absolutely anyone. She very politely isn’t looking at him, though, of which he’s very grateful. Instead, she’s watching Jared carefully, who darts into his closet to grab some thing, returning a few moments later with a small bundle of cloth in his hands, which he promptly hands to Evan.

Evan turns, scurrying off back into the bathroom. He can hear voices outside, dulled through the door, as he pulls on some black slacks. They don’t quite fit him, tight in some areas and loose in others, an obvious occurrence given the difference in his and Jared’s body types and heights. But they get on and stay on, and that’s all that really matters.

Then, he grabs the button-down shirt Jared passed him. It’s dark red, close to maroon but not quite, soft between his fingertips. He pulls the cloth over his shoulders, neatly tucking the extra fabric into his pants and buttoning up the front. 

Evan turns back, ready to leave, before suddenly catching his reflection in the mirror.

His mind rears with the image before him, startled. 

His hair is slightly damp, but not soaking wet, pushed straight back rather than combed to one side, a bit longer than usual.

His eyes are darker than usual as well, the pupils still blown, and his face is slightly red from the hot shower water. He tilts his head to the side, his fingers running down the mark that’s slowly forming by his collarbones.

The color almost matches his shirt.

It hurts to touch, but not in a particularly bad way. 

He recalls Jared's mouth on the sensitive skin there, moving and pressing, his hot tongue. The feeling of Jared's hands all over him, all over his body. How close they were, how connected.

He still cannot believe any of it truly happened.

_A prayer._

Slowly, almost remorsefully, he buttons the final button, entirely covering himself. Evan moves into the room, where he sees Alana and Jared, talking in hushed voices.

Instantly, their heads whip over to him, and he actually sees their jaws drop.

“Oh my God, Evan.”

Both of Alana’s hands fly over her mouth; Jared looks at him with wide, blinking eyes.

He looks down, trying to smooth out the creases in the pants for a moment. “Did I do something wrong?” he murmurs, pulling at the bottom of his sleeves.

Jared coughs, “No, no, no, not at all. It’s just…”

“You look good,” Alana finishes.

“Really good,” Jared adds. “Really, really, really good.”

Alana nods, “Red--garnet, really--is definitely your color.”

Jared nods as well, giving Evan a rather obvious once-over, before suddenly realizing his position and diverting his eyes.

Evan looks down as well, trying to suppress a smile, running his hands over the silky fabric again. “Thank you,” he whispers, trying to accept the compliment even as part of him yells to refuse it.

The room abruptly shifts, as though everyone suddenly recalls their original conversation. Evan moves to stand somewhat between his two friends-- _friends_ \--leaning towards Jared. “So… What exactly is going on?” His voice is carefully, purposefully, level.

Alana sighs, stress returning to her expression, pressing her thumb into her temple, “I just wanted…” Her hands falls back to her side, and she turns to face Evan fully, “Are you okay?”

“Why-” Evan frowns, pulling at the bottom hem of his shirt, trying to rearrange it. “Why wouldn’t I be?” He steps away from Jared, moving his arms across his chest.

“Just, I-” Alana sighs, “I heard that your Dad called?”

Evan turns to Jared, his posture tightening, “You told her?”

“I just-” Jared fumbles for a few moments, “I just didn’t know what to do.”

“What happened, Evan?” Alana takes a step towards him, her palms turned out in welcoming as Evan tenses further.

“It wasn’t a big deal,” Evan protests, his arms crossing over his chest, “I told you that,” he whispers to Jared.

_I told him, I told my father, I told him about you, he knows about it now, he's probably going to disown me, going to throw away what little custody he does have, refuse to ever speak to me again, refuse to-_

“I know, I get that,” Jared moves to reach out to him, before glancing at Alana and dropping his hand mid-air. “I didn’t know she’d come over.” He turns on Alana, his expression tight, “Why _did_ you come here?”

“Evan,” she moves closer to him, “I just wanted to make sure you were okay. I mean, remember what happened a few weeks ago? When you had a panic attack?”

Jared freezes, turning to his boyfriend with worried eyes, “You had a panic attack?”

Evan shrinks away from them both, his eyes flickering over Jared’s face, before turning back to Alana, “It’s not your place to tell him about that,” he hisses.

Alana looks stunned, “I didn’t realize… I thought you would’ve told him?”

Jared frowns, and he wants to pull Evan close, to take Evan’s hand in his own, “I thought you were doing better, Evan?”

“I am doing better!” Evan protests, his fists clenching by his sides instinctively.

“I thought-I wouldn’t have come if I-” Alana shifts her weight between her feet. “I thought that you would be like...like you were, a few weeks ago, and I thought I could help, like I did then.”

“Well, I’m not,” Evan sighs, running a hand through his hair, feeling water droplets on his fingers, “I’m not. I’m fine. Really, I am.” _I'm fine, fine, fine, fine, fine, fine..._

Alana and Jared exchange a miniscule look, and layers upon layers of emotion rest in that look.

“I am,” Evan repeats, his voice louder this time. _"Are you?" Connor hisses._ Wait. _No, no, no,_ he reminds himself, _it's not Connor, that's not Connor, it's just you, just your thoughts._

They both nod, and silence again falls over the room, as Alana takes in their joint appearance.

“So, it’s true? You two are dating?”

Evan freezes, clamping his mouth shut. _Omission is key, omission is key, omission-don't tell the truth, don't-_

Jared nods, “Yeah.” Before Evan has time to protest, Jared continues. “She already figured it out.”

Alana sighs, Evan’s voice flooding her mind, _“Do you want me to call Jared?”_ she remembers asking, her voice filled with a brief naivety. _“He’s usually helpful when you have panic attacks, right?”_

She recalls Evan shaking his head rapidly, biting down hard on his lower lip, his body rocking back and forth, as he tried to force himself not to cry anymore. _“No, he’s... He hates me when I’m like this-”_ Hates _me_. Not hates _it._

She protested, trying to remember the good times of their relationship, all the times she saw Jared and Evan laugh, have sleepovers, joke around in the hallway, _“That’s not true.”_

 _“It is, though. It is. All he does is say how-how much I’m overreacting, how I should just get myself together.”_ She remembers other times, too, times when Jared avoided Evan for days on end, when they would stop speaking, suddenly, and no one seemed to really understand why. _“All he does is offer me a-a paper bag, like that’ll-like that’ll solve all my problems. Jared doesn’t-and besides, we’re not-we’re not really speaking right now, anyway, so.”_

She remembers the desperation in his voice when he uttered those final few words. She remembers all the times she’d talk them both down, separately of course, trying to make Evan believe that Jared didn’t hate him, trying to make Jared believe that Evan did actually care for him. All the times she wondered why they couldn’t--wouldn't--just _talk._

Alana looks at them now, though, and she realizes something. 

She watches the way Jared’s entire body softens whenever Evan approaches, how Evan’s eyes follow Jared’s every movement, how they’re constantly in each other’s presence, watching, appreciating. Something about it is almost protective, but also gives off the air of awe, as though neither of them can believe the other is really there.

She’s suddenly stuck by it all, struck by how obviously they’re both in love. 

This isn’t an infatuation, isn’t some sort of fling. This is real.

Instantly, her breath is almost taken away.

Evan nods carefully, taking a step towards Jared, almost instinctively. “For a few weeks now, I think.”

“25 days.”

Evan looks at him, surprise evident across his face. “You’ve been counting?”

“‘Course I’ve been counting.” The two boys exchange a look, a look too soft, and suddenly it all feels too private for Alana, like she shouldn’t be here, shouldn’t be watching this all.

She tries to center herself again, though, for all their benefits. “Do you know… Do you know what people will say about this? About you two?” She can only imagine the voices, the gossip, the whispering, the anonymous messages, _"Why would you do this? Why would you disrespect him like this? WHY?"_. She can only imagine Zoe's reaction. Cynthia's. Larry's.

Evan looks down, “I didn’t-it doesn’t. It doesn’t have anything to do with Connor. Not for me. It doesn’t.”

“But you know what people with say, don’t you? What they’ll assume? What they’ll say about you?”

Jared moves next to him, slipping his hand through Evan’s. “And I don’t care what they say.”

Evan looks at him, almost surprised, “Yeah?”

Jared swallows, and his decision is clear across his face. “Yeah.”

“Then, neither do I.” It's sweeter than anything else she's ever seen pass between them.

Alana shakes her head, a strange mix of relief and nervousness. Of fondness and apprehension. “You two...” It doesn’t need any explanation beyond that. 

She walks forward, and suddenly Evan turns, wrapping his arms around her waist, pulling her close, craning his head down and resting it onto her shoulder. He's cold, as he almost always is, his skin icy against her own, but she can sense a newfound warmth deep inside.

“Thank you,” he whispers, and she doesn’t quite know what for, or even if it’s anything in particular.

She’s surprised for just a moment--as she can count on a single hand how many times Evan has initiated physical contact with...well, with anyone. Then, her heart fills with joy, because here he is, this boy in whom she sees so much of herself, and they’re doing it. They’ve made it. They’ve survived. They've conquered.

She wraps her arms over his shoulders, pulling him against her. “You’re welcome,” she replies, squeezing him for just a second longer before releasing him, her hands now entwined with his. She looks him directly in the eyes, wanting him to hear and believe every single word she says, “Connor would’ve wanted you to be happy.”

Evan inhales sharply, hot tears pricking at the edge of his eyes. For a moment, the impulse to tell her everything, to be honest, is almost overwhelming. He can’t do it, though. _It would ruin everything._

So, instead, he takes a step back, wiping at his eyes with the back of his hand, a teary smile on his face, “Thank you. Thank you.” Guilt sears through his body, burning like a hot poker.

Jared reaches out, wrapping a hand around Evan’s free wrist. Jared’s touch feels like a cool autumn breeze, washing over him, washing the searing heat away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I love Alana and Evan being BFF's more than I can possibly say. Also, the next Chapter will probably be up either tomorrow or the next day, because I want to get back into the Action!!!! It's coming soon, y'all, so don't give up yet!!!
> 
> Also this was partially inspired by Ben Platt in The Red Suit because that was such A Look.
> 
> Thank you so much as always, and I hope to hear from you all in the comments below!!!


	22. Butterflies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jared and Evan finally have their first date.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My boys!!!

Alana leaves a few moments later, biding the boys adieu, returning to the Murphy household and leaving Jared and Evan behind. 

Every second that passes leads to Evan's chest feeling just a gram lighter, those words feeling just a bit more distant. _Connor would've wanted you to be happy._

Jared chuckles a little, “I wonder what’s going on there. Between those two, Zoe and her.”

“Oh,” Evan realizes suddenly that nobody’s told Jared. “They’re together. Like, officially dating. For a few months now, I think.”

Jared turns to him, a grin spreading across his face. “Well, shit! I really don’t know literally any straight people, then.”

Evan laughs, his head tilted back with the force of it, “Yeah, yeah, that’s true, actually.”

There’s a faint noise as a car pulls into the driveway, the sound of slamming doors, as their laughter fades. 

Jared extends a hand, “Well. It’s nearly six. You wanna just go early? Now’s as much of a time as any.” When Evan nods, Jared smiles again, “Shall we?”

Evan looks down, taking Jared’s hand lightly, finally letting himself truly feel the absurdity of it all. “We shall.”

Jared beckons for Evan to follow him as they return to the front room, lightly dropping their linked hands. Evan fiddles again with the buttons of his shirt, hoping no one will recognize it.

Jared’s mother enters, with Rachel--his younger sister--in tow. Jared darts out, smiling at her neatly, in such a classic teenage boy way that Evan chuckles again, “Can I borrow the car?”

She sighs, digging around in her pockets until she produces the keys. When Jared reaches out to snatch them, she pulls them back, her eyebrows raised, “Where are you going?”

Jared doesn’t miss a beat, “To this school thing.”

She looks at Evan, who stiffens slightly. “Yeah-yeah, it’s an-an art show, at the high school. Tonight. I wanted-we wanted to check it out.”

Jared’s Mom surveys them again, her eyes pausing when she takes in their formal attire, before sighing and handing Jared the keys. She pats Evan on the back as they back their way out the door, stopping him for a second. “I’m glad you two are spending time together again, it’s really been good for Jared.”

Jared huffs, blushing furiously, but Evan just nods, “It’s been good for me, too.”

She nods, calling out to them as they make their way into the driveway, “Have fun boys!” before the front door slams closed behind her.

Evan likes Jared’s Mom, he really does. He knows she’s been struggling recently, from what Jared’s told him, and he’s just glad she’s doing alright, or at least not doing horribly. He steps into the passenger seat, his mind fluttering elsewhere until he’s startled by the sound of the ignition starting.

“Where are we going again?” he murmurs, quickly buckling his seatbelt and watching as Jared does the same.

Jared grins, his face bright as he fiddles with the radio, “You’ll see.”

Evan nods slowly, knowing he shouldn’t pester. He blinks slowly, trying to even out the fuzzy feeling that’s been inhabiting his brain for the past few days, like all of his thoughts are jumbling together and he can't tell what's real and what's fake, what he's thinking and what someone else is telling him.

“Hey,” Jared pauses his movements, “You good?”

Evan nods again, swallowing, glancing over at Jared--at _his boyfriend._ “I am.”

“Good.” Jared hits play on the disc in his car, cranking up the volume quickly, just loud enough to feel immersive but soft enough so that they could still talk over it, if they wanted.

Evan freezes instantly as the first chord plays, an incredulous look spreading over his face. “Did you steal by MP3?”

Pulling out of the driveway, Jared attempts to scoff but fails due to the expanding smile on his face. “No… I did happen to look through it, though, once. This was in every single one of your playlists, so I figured it must be important.” Jared pauses again, his eyes flickering over to Evan, a hint of worry in them. “I would’ve asked, I just wanted it to be a surprise?”

“No, no, that’s fine, I-” _he cares, he cares, he cares, of course he cares, he doesn’t care, but He Does!_ Evan stops speaking, letting the music wash over him slowly.

_Where I go, when I go there…_

The music escalates, crescendoing and growing.

_Tell me, please, "All is forgiven." Consume my wine, consume my mind..._

Evan watches Jared's profile, the shadow of his eyelashes against his upper cheek, the curl of his lips, the curve of his nose, as the the music finally reaches its climax.

_Touch me, just try it, now, there, that's it, oh God, that's heaven._

A soft air fills the car as the music begins to fade. Evan presses the side of his forehead against the cool glass window, watching the world rush by him, feeling unexplainably breathless. 

_Where the winds sigh..._

Cars are always a bit peculiar, always make him feel a bit powerless, a bit lost. A bit like watching this window is like a direct visual representation of his life flying by before his eyes while he remains helpless to slow it down.

He pushes those thoughts away, closing his eyes, letting himself be lulled into serenity by the soft notes and faint buzz from the speakers.

Eventually, he turns back to the window, craning his neck to try and figure out where exactly they are. He presses his thumb into his arm, slowly working out the small knots of tension there. The music fades as Jared begins to slow down the car, almost as though he perfectly planned out the length of the playlist to match the length of the trip.

Cautiously, Evan looks around, taking in his surroundings. He can see their city center a few miles out, perhaps, but he doesn’t recognize the area. When Jared steps out of the car, clicking the door shut and locking it swiftly, Evan follows.

They walk out, the quickly cooling breeze running through Evan’s still-wet hair. It’s close to dusk, but the sun still shines through the emerging cloud formations. A pale orange color, reflecting beautifully across the green grass below their feet. He follows Jared, letting the sound of chirping birds and ruffling leaves fill his ears.

Jared slows his gait, walking side-by-side with Evan, their shoulders brushing together as they round a corner. Instantly, Evan’s halts, his eyes widening, before begin to walk even faster than before. Jared half-jogs to keep up with him, damning Evan’s long legs under his breath.

They arrive at the door of the building, and Evan just stares ahead. His body feels loose and tight at the same time, like he's a violin string that's slightly out of tune.

He can’t stop smiling. Before he can even organize his thoughts well enough to speak, though, Jared opens the door for him, ushering them both into the building. 

Evan's eyes sweep over his surrounding, taking in the large, stone walls, an expansive glass roof. Jared waits beside him, patiently, as he suppresses the urge to touch everything in sight. Memories of running around this building flood him as he realizes that he has, in fact, been here before. 

It’s almost as though he recognizes everything all at once, memories flooding his mind like a tsunami.

He remembers running up these stairs on Sunday morning, pulling his mother along by her hand, yammering on and on and on about everything in sight. He remembers this place almost as though it was his second home, or perhaps even his real home. 

The Kesap Botanical Garden.

He used to beg his mother to take him here almost every weekend when they moved here. Once he turned twelve, though, and no longer qualified for free admission, and once his mother switched jobs to a location further away, it just wasn’t practical anymore.

“I’d forgotten about this place,” he whispers, his voice low, almost in reverence. “How did you know?” 

Jared slips his hand into Evan’s gently, curling his warm fingers around Evan’s cold ones. He shrugs, tries to look nonchalant, but Evan can tell that inside he’s bursting with happiness and pride. “I remembered you talking about it, when we were younger.” His voice is soft, almost a memory itself, gently recalling the lives of Evan and Jared past. 

_I love you, I love you, I love you, I do, I do, I do._

Evan squeezes his hand as they slowly begin to make their way over to the booth, where Jared hands the woman there a ticket for two. They enter. “We’re a little bit early, but it’s fine.”

Evan looks around again, breathing in deeply as he’s hit with the thick, dense air of a greenhouse. “I thought this place always closed early?”

“There’s a special event, I guess.” Jared tucks the paper back away in his pocket. “A sort of, ‘please, please, come early this year spring,’ type of evening. It’s open until late.”

Jared's planned this all out, planned out this evening, for them, just for them, and- _I love you, I love you, I love you, I do, I do, I do._

Evan continues forward, taking in the glass sculptures lining the walls, noting the various tree life. It’s all such a bright green, a vibrant emerald, mixed with the stunning colors of flowers, the smell of nature thick in the air. The lights above are dimmed, as natural light continues to stream through the glass ceiling above. 

Evan recognizes a few--read: all--of the plants there. At first, he mutters a few fun facts here and there, but after a few minutes with no complaints to Jared, he begins a stream of consciousness flow of information, detailing the specifics of every interesting plant he comes across. 

“Oh, these are _Josee_ lilacs, which is a special kind of lilac that blooms more than once a year, since the general variety only is in bloom for three months during the peak of springtime, unfortunately. They’re actually native to Eastern Europe and some parts of Northern Asia, so they can withstand very, very cold temperatures without dying or being harmed; they were brought here about two hundred years ago.” 

The soft delicacy of the flower’s rich purple petals shines out at him.

“Actually, fun fact, lilacs have been recognized as a symbol of sapphic love, actually, and were worn by lesbians and bisexual women in the 17th and 18th centuries. Now, they are a symbol of first love and-and they’re very beautiful. Not any flowers are naturally that color, so it’s just-they’re beautiful.”

He moves forward, past the lilacs, Jared’s hand still in his own. “And... This is the gayfeather.”

Jared stops, raising a single eyebrow. “The ‘gayfeather?’”

“Well,” Evan scratches at the back of his head with his free hand. “Scientifically, they’re called Liatris, but colloquially they’re called either ‘blazing star’ or ‘gayfeather.’”

And now Jared’s fully smiling. “So...it’s a gay AF plant that likes to smoke weed, is what I’m hearing?”

Evan coughs, “They’re perennials, too.”

Jared bends down over the little lavender flower, a dorky smile large across his face, “You’re my new favorite plant, Gayfeather. Congrats.” He stands back up, and Evan resists the urge to bury his face into the curve of Jared’s neck.

They continue walking.

_I do, I do, I do._

The light above dims further as the sun disappears over the horizon, bathing the empty greenhouse with yellow, orange, red, blue, and violet.

Evan suddenly remembers something, and he pulls Jared along until they reach a specific room. They pass through two doors before emerging into another grand hall, with a high, arching ceiling. Veins creep along the bases of small trees, located throughout the room. Jared looks up and instantly his breath is taken away. Butterflies roam overhead, their delicate wings flapping as they move from plant to plant.

One flutters down, landing softly onto Evan’s outstretched fingertip. 

All living things seem to be instantly attracted to Evan. Every dog they pass on the street strains at its leash, wagging its tail happily, moving towards Evan as though all they want is for him to pet them. Squirrels and bunnies don’t run away from him when he comes near. Birds land as he walks by without the slightest worry. 

Jared’s noticed these things over the years, so honestly it doesn’t surprise him at all when it turns out that this butterfly adores Evan as well.

_Where the winds sigh..._

Evan’s looking at it with soft eyes, “This is a _Celastrina argiolus_ butterfly, it belongs to the lycaenids family, and is native to North America. They’re classified by the holly blue color of their wings.”

Jared examines the small creature closer. It’s wings are the color of fluffy blue cotton candy, the color of the lightest sky.

It flaps its small, delicate wings and softly flutters away. 

Suddenly, Evan turns to Jared, his eyebrows pulled up in the center, and he grabs Jared’s hand, tracing over the soft, clear skin of his inner wrist. Back and forth, over his prominent veins and the thin, smooth skin there. 

He moves his hands to Jared’s collar, straightening the fabric softly, domestically. 

Jared wishes he knew what Evan was thinking, in those moments, wishes he could tell what’s going on inside that brain of his, wishes he could help quiet some of whatever's happening there.

But Evan just looks up, and his green eyes match the foliage around them perfectly.

He wraps his arms around Jared and pulls him close, until their faces are almost nose-to-nose. Jared leans forward and seals the kiss, warmth and softness and smooth movements, pushes and pulls, back and forth, running his hands down Evan’s sides. 

They kiss as though they have all the time in the world, as though the future is full of endless possibilities, as though nothing could possibly stop them, as though nothing could ever go wrong, as though nothing else exists in this entire universe except for them.

Well, and the butterflies.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There was supposed to be angst here, but instead I spent 8 pages writing about botanical gardens? It's almost the weekend, though, so lovers of the Angst Train, have no fears!!!!! The song here is "Touch Me" from the musical Spring Awakening, which I personally think is The Jansen Song. (And Kesap Botanical Garden is just "Pasek" rearranged b/c I couldn't think of any other names)
> 
> Also, I wrote another (angsty) fic recently, called A Sigh of Relief, and you can read it [here!](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710222) Please do, I'd absolutely love the support!!!
> 
> Also, shout out to @munchiezxx for making some beyond gorgeous artwork for this fic, found [right here](http://munchiezxx.tumblr.com/post/159900976269/fanart-for-neglectedrainbow-0-its-based-off)!!!
> 
> <3


	23. Right?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan feels like he's on the edge of a cliff. He doesn’t know how he got up there, or why he’s up there, all he knows is that he’s right on the edge, teetering with laughter, ready to fall at any moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I should be studying for finals, but here's another chapter instead! I hope you all enjoy <3 <3 TW: suicidality, mentions of suicide and character death, very low self-esteem, self-harming tendencies.

They move to small alcove outside, laying on the soft grass of the gardens, shoulder-to-shoulder, alone other than the rustling of nature. Evan takes a deep breath as Jared once again threads their fingers together, “You didn’t have to do this.”

“I wanted to,” Jared replies, still looking at the sky.

Something within Evan feels as though this is massively important, crucially vital, to make Jared understand what he’s trying to say. “But you didn’t have to.”

Jared finally turns his head over, his eyebrows slightly furrowed, “Okay?”

Evan’s eyes search up and down the other’s face before nodding, turning back into place.

A silence envelopes their clearing, pushing down on Evan like a hot iron. He resists the urge to speak, so he bites down on his tongue instead. Jared turns to him again, “You okay?”

It all feels so thick and heavy in Evan’s brain and he doesn’t know why. He should be perfectly fine. Nothing happened to make him feel this way. And yet? That feeling is weighing down harder and harder upon his chest.

“I just-” he stops, not wanting to ruin everything. “It doesn’t matter, it’s fine.”

Jared props himself up on his elbows. “Come on, you can tell me?”

Evan shakes his head, “It’s nothing.”

When Jared doesn’t lay back down, Evan begins to fidget, sliding his hand out of Jared’s so he can twist his own together, picking at his nails absentmindedly. “You can tell me,” Jared repeats. 

_You know that I’m not worth it, right?_

Evan swallows, his tongue heavy.

_You know that you could have anyone? Anyone, anything, you could have someone else, you could have someone better and handsomer and nicer and happier and funnier and less broken inside, someone who doesn’t think of any of these things._

“It’s no big deal.” _Why do you want me?_ “It doesn’t matter.” _I’m not worth it._ “Just that this has been really, really nice.” _You can’t really want me._ “Here.” _It has been nice, it has been, it's just that no one can really want me._ “So thank you.”

_What am I going to do about the Murphy’s?_

Jared smiles, pressing a kiss to the side of Evan’s head. “No problem.” 

Evan looks down, picking at the edge of his cast, tugging at little bits of string there. Jared leans over, “When’re you getting your cast off?”

He’s seen the thing every day all year, the loud CONNOR yelling at him. He remembers not to be jealous of the Murphy’s, of how much time Evan spends with them. He can’t be jealous of a dead kid.

Evan bites at the edge of his mouth, “Next month.” He doesn’t say anything else, just stares up and watches the trees sway in the quick winds overhead.

Jared wonders why Evan likes them so much. Or, no. Not that. It isn’t “Why do you like trees, Evan?” because even Jared can understand liking nature. It’s calm, it’s pretty, he gets it. 

The question isn’t that. The question is “ _How_ do you _still_ like trees, Evan?” After everything that’s happened? Before he can truly digest that thought, before he can even comprehend how in the world he would ask that, a faint raindrop hits the tip of his nose.

He looks up, taking in the dark, swirling sky above him. Slowly, raindrops begin to fall. He gets up, Evan quickly following his lead, and for a moment, they just stand there, in silence, as the water falls lightly.

Evan closes his eyes and lets the water hit his face. 

It’s raining, because of course it’s raining. Because Evan hasn’t taken his medication in two weeks, and he’s beginning to wonder if it was a mistake, is beginning to wonder when his mother is going to find out, is beginning to have so many fucking questions about it all. 

_You know I’m not worth it, right?_

Evan begins to laugh. He doesn’t know why. His mind is still filled with thoughts of _I don’t matter, I’ve never matter, none of it matters,_ and yet? Somehow, once he starts, he can’t stop. They’re big, full laughs, at first, Jared looks at him like he’s lost his mind--and maybe he has--before he starts laughing as well. And they’re standing there, in the rain, dressed in button-downs and slacks, their backs covered in bits of grass, doubled over in laughter, and neither of them can explain why. 

It all feels so good.

It all hurts so much.

It all feels so big.

They stumble back into the building, their faces and shirts nearly soaking wet, both overcome with giggles, and to Evan, he can’t stop, it feels almost demented. 

He feels like he's on the edge of a cliff. He doesn’t know how he got up there, or why he’s up there, all he knows is that he’s right on the edge, teetering with laughter, ready to fall at any moment.

Evan laughs because he would cry if he didn’t.

Thankfully, Jared doesn’t seem to notice. He just laughs, too, but for different reasons.

He laughs at the ridiculousness of it all, that he’s out at a botanical garden with a boy that he’s loved for as long as he can remember, a beautiful boy who’s wearing his clothing and holding his hand and smiling and talking to him, and there’s so much work to be done, but they’ve made it! They’re here!

They stumble across the threshold, their laughter slowly fading. Jared checks his phone for the time, quickly regaining his breath. He removes his glasses, whipping them off on his jacket, “It’s nearly 10,” he says, between chuckles.

Evan nods, sobering up quickly, regaining his composure, “Yeah, yeah, we should-we should head out.”

“Yeah, yeah, we should.” Jared chuckles.

“Before they kick us out.”

“In ten minutes!”

Evan laughs, grabbing Jared’s wrist and tugging him through the hallways, through the butterfly exclosure, through the halls of flowers and gardens, down into the balcony above the front desk area. 

They slow to a walk, gliding down the stairway and out the building, wishing every worker they pass a good day. 

They turn out, jogging through the parking lot, hand-in-hand.

Partially, it feels like one of those romantic movies where the couple traipses through some beautiful open park, flaunting their love to everyone in sight. Only partially. 

They fling themselves into the car, both still chuckling slightly. 

Evan laughs again. _You know I’m not worth it, right?_

Jared leans across the car, holding Evan’s face between his hands as he kisses him, one hand running through Evan’s wet hair, water droplets falling from it onto his shoulders.

Evan kisses him too, sensually opening his mouth and deepening the kiss. 

Jared is warmth against his freezing body. 

A burning fire against a cold stone.

 _You don’t deserve him, you’re such a fucking freak._ Connor’s face bursts into Evan’s mind, and he pulls back, disconnecting their lips slowly, breathing hard against Jared before leaning back into his seat, trying to steady his heart again. _I’m not the freak, you’re the fucking freak._

He wonders what it would’ve been like, if any of that had been true. If maybe Connor hadn’t read his letter, hadn’t seen the part about Zoe, hadn’t misinterpreted everything. Or if Evan had argued with him, had stopped him, had explained it all. If they would have talked, would have become friends. Or if Connor would’ve just shoved him down again, would’ve yelled at him and left. If Connor was capable, or even slightly interested, in simply spending any time more than necessary with him. 

Maybe he had only come into the computer lab that day after school because he had already made up his mind and just wanted to clear himself before his death. If he even cared about Evan. If he had any guilt. If he had already planned out how he was gonna do it when he asked to sign Evan’s cast. 

If he had wanted to leave that behind, that conversation, if he had wanted to force Evan to look at it every day and think about all the things that went wrong in his own life. 

Maybe that was his way of punishing Evan, signing his cast before he vanished. Or maybe it was one last ditch effort before the end. 

He tries not to think about if Connor could still be alive, in one of these scenario.

He can’t do that to himself.

He still does that to himself.

Jared moves back to the wheel, still smiling to himself, rummaging around for his keys. “We can stop off at your house first,” he says, distractedly. 

Evan pauses, his fingers running over the smooth fabric across his legs. Jared continues rummaging. “I can just borrow a pair of your pajamas?” 

He says it likes it’s a question, not something he wants more than he’s willing to admit. He likes wearing Jared’s clothing, he likes how they feel and how they look, how they smell and what it _means_. Most of all, he likes what it means to wear Jared’s clothing.

“Oh.” A small smile spreads across Jared’s face, and he blushes! He actually blushes! “Yeah, yeah, of course, I mean, all mine are pretty lame. But. Yeah.” He smiles at Evan, leaning over again, pressing a soft, chaste kiss to his lips. 

Then, he pulls away, lingering just a few centimeters from Evan, his breath hot and warm, “I meant, like, to get your meds and everything. Not supposed to miss a night, right?” 

Jared says it so casually, like he knows Evan’s on medication and it doesn’t bother him, like he’s just being a supportive boyfriend, and Evan’s heart seizes.

“Um,” he pulls back, taking Jared’s hands from his shoulders and into his own hands. “I’m actually-I’m actually not taking them anymore?”

Instantly, Jared retreats, removing all physical contact, “What?”

“I don’t need them.”

“What do you mean you don’t need them? They’re, like, prescribed for a reason.”

“Yeah, no, I know that.” Evan frowns at Jared’s rough expression. “I just didn’t think there was a point anymore.”

Jared swallows, “Did your doctor approve this?” Evan looks at him for a few moments, his mouth sealed shut in omission. “Fuck, Evan, that’s not… That’s really not good.”

 _He knows you’re not worth it, right?_ Evan shrugs, his shoulders tensing, “I feel fine.”

“Evan, you know my Mom works in the psych ward, right? You know what she says about people that go off their meds without approval. It can be really dangerous.” Jared runs his hands through his hair tensely, “Did you just go cold turkey? One day? Why?”

“Well,” Evan sighs, pulling his knees tight into his chest, trying to take up less space, pushing himself against the door of the car. “I didn’t feel like they were-like they were making a difference? So I just...stopped taking them.”

“But, what if…” Jared swallows, his brown eyes flickering. “What if you start feeling like you did, last summer?”

Evan coughs, “Then I’ll go back on them.”

“Will you, though?” 

Evan blinks a few times, his forehead crinkling. _I just want to be normal, to go to sleep at night without any drugs, without anything making me feel a certain way. I just want to be, to just not have to spend money on all this, to not have to waste time with it all, to be normal and natural and-_ “I don’t-I don’t really want to talk about-about this anymore.” He turns to face the front of his car, quickly fastening his seatbelt.

Slowly, Jared follows suit, but his hands grip the steering wheel, his knuckles white..

Evan manages to sit through about five minutes of silence before making his thumb bleed by biting on the nail too hard. 

He watches the red goo trickle out of the side of his thumb. 

He clears his throat, “It’s really not a big deal or anything.”

Jared keeps his eyes trained on the road ahead of him, but Evan can see various muscles in his face moving slightly. “If anything happened to you,” he says, still staring ahead, his voice soft, “I would be ruined.” He pauses, “And this isn’t some sort of ‘Don’t do something for me,’ because you need to be okay for yourself, not for me, I just… I just need you to know that.”

Evan watches the other for a few moments, watches his beautifully dressed form and even face.

Jared deserves someone so much better than Evan, someone nicer, someone more handsome, more intelligent. Someone less needy, less dependent, less anxious, less fucking broken inside.

Evan looks at Jared and sees someone with wings, someone capable of anything in this world. He looks at himself and sees a flightless bird, someone who’s so desperate to be something yet fails every single times. 

_You’re holding him back,_ a voice whispers.

A voice that sounds like Connor. A voice Evan hasn’t heard in a long time. He shakes his head slightly, before knotting his hands together. “You don’t have to worry about that, though,” he glances to Jared. “Because nothing’s gonna happen to me.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the thing. Going off your meds is not a good thing to do, and will never be a good thing to do. Don't do it, folks, at least not without explicit permission from your doctor/therapist/medical professional. 
> 
> So, I've always headcanoned Evan as having some sort of manic depression rooted in anxiety (it's also possible that I'm projecting myself onto a character, but, hey, it's my fic, I guess) so there's a lot of that hear, especially in relation to his anxiety as well. Of him being very, very, very reckless.
> 
> One of the most interesting things about Evan is his extreme recklessness and simultaneous extreme caution, and I hope I captured that well here.
> 
> Next chapter, the Murphy's are back! So is Heidi! Yay!!!! See you soon, and please, please, please leave a comment below! It can be as short or as long as you like, but every single one of them makes my day brighter!


	24. Photographs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> For a moment, Heidi almost doesn’t recognize this young man in front of her. This young man wearing a faded grey sweatshirt she’s never seen before, his shoulders pushed back, his chin lifted.
> 
> But the smile drops off Evan’s face in the matter of less than a second, his entire face falling.
> 
> Then, she definitely recognizes him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> the next chapter! I love you all so much, thank you so much for reading! tw: suicidal ideation, very low self-esteem, themes of abandonment, disordered eating, ableist language.

Cynthia flits around the house, snatching any random items strewn across the floor and re-organizing everything for the hundredth time. She wants it to be perfect. She wants everything to be perfect, or at least as close to perfect as she can possibly make it. She needs something to do, something to occupy herself with, until, finally the doorbell chimes.

Mrs. Murphy rushes over to the door, followed closely by her husband, making sure to plaster on her best welcoming smile. “Hello!” she greets, standing back so that their guest may enter. She holds out a hand, “I’m Cynthia.”

The woman shakes her hand kindly, the smell of hospital antiseptic thick around her. Not overwhelmingly so, just very present. “I’m Heidi. Heidi Hansen.”

Cynthia steps back, letting Heidi enter their room, “This is my husband, Larry,” she motions. Larry reaches out and shakes her hand as well. Cynthia can see her eyes sliding over the entire house, her mouth slightly open, her posture still tense, as she takes in the stunning foyer. 

Walking over to the living room, Mrs. Murphy offers her a glass of wine, something to relax the nerves. “We really are thrilled you could make it.” She softly sits down onto the couch, motioning for Heidi to do the same. “What with--well, Evan’s told us about your busy schedule, and-”

Heidi’s eyebrows draw together, “Well, I’m not-” She chuckles drily, but it sounds forced. “I’m not that busy. Just...you know how it is.” However, as her eyes roams over these intricate walls and dusted floors, she quickly realizes that they do not, in fact, know how _it_ is.

Larry clears his throat, handing both of the women glasses, “Evan tells us you’re studying to be a lawyer?”

“A paralegal,” Heidi corrects, just as the front door clicks open once again.

“Mom?” a voice calls, and Heidi turns, watching as a beautiful, young, brown-haired girl enters, with her own son in tow. Evan’s chuckling about something, a smile spread across his face. A smile that reaches his eyes. A smile that Heidi hasn’t seen in months. 

For a moment, she almost doesn’t recognize this young man in front of her. This young man wearing a faded grey sweatshirt she’s never seen before, his shoulders pushed back, his chin lifted, his breathing steady. A calm, a contentedness in his aura that she doesn’t think she’s ever seen.

But the smile drops off Evan’s face in the matter of less than a second, his entire face falling.

Then, she definitely recognizes him.

He takes a step away from the girl, physically distancing himself, his eyes darting around the room. He seems to catalogue every single exit possible. It makes Heidi’s heart constrict, but her thoughts are cut off as the girl marches right over to her, her hand extended. “I’m Zoe. I’ve been wanting to meet you forever.” 

She has a firm grasp, a sturdy handshake, pulling back before Heidi has time to fully react.

Evan’s head is pounding, small jackhammers ramming into the side of his head at every angle. All he can see is his mother, here-- _here_ \--the one place she’s definitely not supposed to be. Everything else is fading to black. He tries to take a deep breath, to get rid of all the inky dots quivering at the edges of his vision. 

Jared’s voice rings through his brain, asking what Evan’s eaten to day, and the answer slowly comes to his brain: nothing, really.

Larry appears by his side, his hand patting Evan’s shoulders for just a moment, his presence so close, almost too close. It feels like everyone’s staring at him, staring and staring and staring, and he doesn’t know what to do. “Hi-hi, Mom,” he whispers, but his voice is quiet, almost silent. “I didn’t-I didn’t realize that you were going to-going to be here.”

Evan takes a deep, hollowing breath, slowly sitting down on the seat, far as possible from everyone else, curling himself into the far edge of the chair. 

_Why is she here, why is she here, did she figure everything out, did she tell them, did I-breathe, breathe, breathe-_

Evan crosses his legs at the ankle, his arms folding across his chest. _Less space, less space, maybe they won’t notice you, maybe they won’t talk to you, maybe-_

“I didn’t know that you were--I had no idea that Evan was here so often.” Heidi’s fingers tighten around the frail glass. She turns to her son, her eyes slightly narrowed, “I don’t know why I thought you were always at Jared’s.”

“I’m not-I’m not always-always at-here."

“Well,” Cynthia adds cautiously, “Whenever he is here, he’s positively amazing.”

Whenever Evan isn't here, he's at Jared's. Whenever he isn't at Jared's, he's here. 

Larry places a hand on Evan’s shoulder, and he tries desperately to not flinch or pull away instinctively. “An absolute blessing.”

Heidi looks between them all, still holding the glass a little bit too tightly. They could be a family, the four of them. A perfect, tight-knit family. “I see. I was just-I had been agonizing for months, weeks, really, about whether or not to come and meet you all, after I saw that video of Evan’s speech on Facebook.”

Her eyes flicker over to her son, stoney, and he freezes.

“Especially ‘cause I haven’t been able to really see him in some time, you know, now that he’s always hopping about from one place to another.”

Evan lifts his chin for just a second, meeting her gaze, her blue eyes, before immediately looking back at the floor.

Zoe watches Evan, watches how he hunches further in on himself, and she wants to help. “He’s really been such a great source of comfort, these last few months. I don’t know what we…” She swallows thickly, her eyes suddenly landing on a family portrait above the mantle. 

Her and Connor stand together on the left, not quite touching, with their parents on Zoe’s side. She’s looking right at the camera, along with Mr. and Mrs. Murphy.

Connor stares off into the distance, his expression set. His eyes drooping.

She tears her own away from the portrait, trying to regain her focus. “What we would’ve done without him.” 

Heidi nods hurriedly, wishing she had somewhere to put down this glass but not wanting to let go of it, feeling as though it's the only stable thing keeping her held down to this conversation. “I really-I really had no idea, to be completely honest.”

Cynthia nods quickly, her hand resting comfortingly on Heidi’s for just a moment, “Oh, neither did we! Neither did we.” She chuckles a bit, “You know how teenagers are: secret handshakes, secret passwords, secret boyfriends.” She laughs a little, brushing her perfectly combed hair back.

Ms. Hansen freezes, for just a millisecond, her eyes widening in surprise. “Secret boyfriends?” Her voice is low, and, that’s-that’s yet another thing Evan hadn’t told her--hadn’t really planned on telling her. Ever, maybe. 

He thinks she knew, of course, but only in her own, suspecting way, not in a definitive “Your son, Evan Hansen had a boyfriend” way.

Cynthia frowns, “You didn’t…” she trails off, turning to Evan, but his mother quickly recovers.

“Oh, oh, of course, I did, of course, I just-” She smiles, but Evan can see how it doesn’t reach her eyes, how it doesn’t spread properly. “I knew. Of course.”

Larry nods, as Zoe looks to Evan quizzically.

He tries to sink into the floor.

_She hates you, she hates you, she hates you, once they kick us out she’s going to yell at you and kick you out, she’ll leave you, just like your father did, because why would she stay, what would anyone stay?_

“He was,” Larry clears his throat thickly, “He was an important part of our son’s life, so we really must thank you for letting him be such an important part of all of our lives, now. To know that someone-that someone...that someone loved him, to know that he knew that as well, is just very meaningful, to me.”

“Of course,” Heidi watches Evan, her mind racing, staring at her son’s cast, at the large, sprawling writing. 

The conversation dwindles, everyone looking at each other. The natural lighting still shines through the window, evening not yet having set. 

Zoe watches Evan for a moment, taking in his internalized physicality, similar to the way he used to look at school, before everyone knew his name, before people stopped tormenting him from afar. 

He reminds her of Connor, in his own particular way. He isn’t violent or aggressive or mean, at all, but there’s something about him, some deep-seated similarity that Zoe can’t get out of her mind.

As the silence becomes thicker, threatening on awkwardness, she steps in, breaking the quiet, just as she was forced to do at all those horrendous family dinners, all those events where they pretended to be perfect. “Evan told me about all those scholarship contests he’s doing. It’s really amazing, you finding all of them.”

“Well, they’re not too difficult to find, it’s just-Evan’s a fabulous writer, you really should read some of his work. His English teacher told me that his paper last year was the best she’d ever read.”

Right. The English paper he wrote in eleventh grade analyzing the linguistic style of Gothic authors, the paper that he submitted in late March, just before he was forced to give a presentation about Daisy Buchanan, and he asked could he please, please, _please_ , just write a paper about her, a formal paper, more than ten pages, even, anything, please, anything, not to present in front of the class, but was told that formal speaking is _necessary for any job_ and that he really needed to just _get over himself_ and that he _could do it_ but he couldn’t do it and all he did was fail, fail like he’s been doing since the day he was born.

“I’d love to read some of his work! From his speech alone, I could see-” she pauses, “Well, he’s very, very talented.”

Talented at screwing things up, maybe.

He and Jared cuddled all night, after their first real date, their bodies pressed together, but it wasn't quite right. Evan, dressed in Jared’s flannel pajamas from freshman year, tried to ignore the fact that Jared didn’t pet his hair like usual, that he didn’t really kiss him, that he seemed to just think and think and think. He didn’t kiss Evan goodbye when he dropped him off the next morning, despite the fact that Evan thanked him for everything as much as he could without Jared getting angry with him.

_It’s all so messed up._

Cynthia looks to her daughter, and Zoe instantly leans forward, her voice soft. “Evan told me a bit about-about everything that you all are dealing with right now.”

 _Everything that you’re dealing with right now_ , says the girl who lost her brother no less than six months ago.

Mrs. Murphy nods, “And, well, we were lucky enough, blessed enough to have been able to-to set away some money for our son.” She inhales sharply, and protests that she’s fine as Larry comes over, trying to comfort her. She still can’t talk about him. Her son. Her only son. “And we would-it would be an honor, really, if we could, in any way, possibly alleviate some of the financial burden of college from Evan.”

Both Heidi and Evan whip over to face Mrs. Murphy simultaneously, their expressions nearly identical ones of shock and surprise. Evan wants to protest, wants to defend himself, wants everyone to know that he didn’t ask for this, that he didn’t do this, that isn’t not his fault this is happening, but he can’t even open his mouth. He can’t breathe.

Heidi breathes slowly, her mouth opening and closing a few times, “Wow.” 

The monosyllabic statement shatters the fragile calm in the room.

Larry reaches out as Heidi stands, “We would-it would truly be an honor if you let us-if you allowed us to do this. For your son."

Ms. Hansen steps away, turning to place her still-full wine glass onto the counter. “I don’t know what Evan’s told you, but we’re doing just fine.” The last two words come out like whips of fire, heated to scorching temperature, lashing out and sizzling Evan’s skin.

Cynthia stands as well, remaining on equal footing with the other woman, “It would be a gift, if you just let us help you.”

Heidi has worked too long and too hard for some rich people she doesn’t even know to flounce into her son’s life and take everything over. To lure her son in with their fancy house and fancy wine and to throw money at him, to pretend like she doesn’t even exist, to confirm every worst fear she's ever had about herself as a mother, to know that all the times she worried about failing them--about failing Evan--were valid..

She’s worked too long and too hard to be thrown aside.

“Well,” she reaches down to grab her bag, swinging it over one shoulder roughly. “We may not have a lot of money, but we do have some. And I’m sorry if Evan gave you the impression that we didn’t-”

“That’s not-” Zoe protests, standing as well, looking to Evan for support, but the boy just remains staring at the ground, motionless. 

“No, no, it’s fine, I just-we do have money. I don’t want you thinking that we don’t, and I don’t want Evan to get the impression that he can rely on strangers-”

“We are not strangers,” Cynthia protests, her voice increasing in pitch.

She looks at Evan and sees her only real connection to her son, the only real link to him remaining. She sees this talented, intelligent, empathetic young man who has enriched their lives so much. All she wishes is to try, to at least try, to do the same for him.

Evan thinks of the Murphy’s, of how they’ve never yelled at him, never berated him, never tried to fix him. He thinks about how they welcome him into their home on a weekly basis, how they accept him, how they seem to like him. 

To him, the Murphy’s are not strangers. They are the embodiment of hope, of everything he could’ve possibly wished for: parents who won’t leave him the first chance they get and a friend, a true friend.

He thinks of all the things they’ve done for him. Of how little he’s done in return. He can’t possibly accept more.

The people around him are still speaking, on and on and on, but Evan’s mind shuts down. It goes silent--for perhaps the first time ever--before Connor’s voice fills his mind, whispering. Evan can’t make out any of the words at first, but he can recognize the sound, or perhaps the presence.

_What if you told them, told them everything, right now? What would they say?_

_You can’t, they’ll hate you. They’ll tear you apart and feed you to the wolves._

_They won’t hate you, they love you, they just want to help you, they’ll appreciate that you told the truth and everyone can move on._

_You know that isn’t true, and will never be true._

_They will hate you,_ Connor whispers, _They’ll leave you. And then the only person that’ll be left. Is you. Just you. All alone._

There’s a rush of cold air through Evan’s body. _And what happened the last time you were all alone?_

“I really should be going.” Heidi grabs her jacket off of the couch, clutching the jean fabric between her hands. “You know, if I’d known that we were in such a position financial, I never would’ve taken the night off in the first place.”

She moves past the Murphy’s, pushing to the front door. Cynthia rushes after her, as Evan raises to his feet. He feels drained, like a flat piece of paper, emotionless, empty. Zoe reaches for him, “I’m so-I didn’t realize, I didn’t mean to-”

“Please, I’m sorry,” Evan croaks, his voice feeling rough, wetness threatening his eyes, and he doesn’t know why he’s here, why he agreed to this, why any of this happened in the first place.

_Why did you argue with them, that first time, in the principal’s office? Why didn’t you just say, “No?”_

_But, what if you had, though, what if you had been honest? You wouldn’t have Jared right now, and you definitely wouldn’t have the Murphy’s. Face it, if it wasn’t for me, they never would’ve looked twice at you in the first place._

Evan shakes his head back and forth, back and forth. “That isn’t true,” he hisses.

“What, Evan? What’re you talking about?” Zoe tries to block his pathway, but he maneuvers around her.

“I’m sorry,” he murmurs, his chest moving in rapid inhales. “I have to go.”

Evan Hansen passes Cynthia, Larry, and Zoe Murphy on the way out. The perfect family he’ll never have. The perfect family he’ll never deserve.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have almost all of the rest of the fic planned out. There should be around 10 chapters left (ah!!!!!) and I'm beyond excited! I don't know if I particularly liked this chapter (I tend to like writing things between just two characters more) but hopefully you didn't hate it? Thank you so much for reading, and I'd love to hear from you in the comments below! This are gonna start moving a lot faster from here on out!
> 
> NEXT CHAPTER: more heidi!!!


	25. The Finish Line

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> “They like me!” The words ring out into the barren house. “I don’t care if they’re not my parents, because at least they like me! Oh, and I know that’s so hard to believe, that anyone could actually like me, right? Because you think I’m so broken, so messed up, so worthless. Oh, I need all this medication, therapy, a psychiatrist, because you think I need to be fixed! Like some _machine_!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

>  **TW: detailed discussion of suicide, suicidal thoughts, and abandonment.** Seriously, Evan is not in a good place in this. Please, please, please be careful, and I am here to talk whenever (or give you a summary of this chapter, if you aren't safe reading it but want to keep up with the plot).

“Do you have any idea how humiliating that was!” Heidi paces back and forth around their living room, her hands clenched tightly.

Evan doesn’t respond, just continues to stare down, down at his shoes. 

Silence.

“Do you have any idea how that felt? To find out from someone else that you’ve been spending the night at someone’s house who I don’t even know? I thought you were at Jared’s!”

“I was,” Evan croaks, his throat tightening. “I was. Sometimes.”

“That you spent the entire summer with some boy? Some boy who I don’t even know, who you-you never told me about, not until I found out from some article on Facebook!”

Evan sucks in a quick breath through his teeth, still stationary even as Heidi draws closer.

“How often are you there, Evan?” It’s worded like a question, but it comes out like more of a demand, a requirement.

He tenses, “Maybe three days a week.” He’s there Monday, Wednesday, and Thursday usually. Tuesday, Friday, and Sunday with Jared. Saturday alone, trying to pretend that he doesn’t need constant validation in order to fully function. 

That’s the schedule he’s fallen into. For the first time in his life, Evan actually has schedule, something to do after school almost every day, something reminiscent of a social life, and now it’s being torn apart in front of his eyes.

“They think you’re their son.” Heidi finally stops her pacing, landing stationary in front of her only child. “They act-they act like they’ve adopted you, like I don’t even matter, like I’m just this _woman_.”

Evan shakes his head, clenching his jaw hard. _You’ve ruined it, you’ve ruined everything, she’s gonna leave, just like Dad did, they’re all going to leave._

“They’re not your parents, Evan!” Heidi waves her hands in front of his face, moving forward, threateningly, her voice low-pitched and mocking.

He shrinks, away, stalking to the opposite side of the room. “They’re nice to me!” The words escape his mouth before he has any time to think, to process, before he can understand how true any of this is.

Heidi pulls back, her expression contorting. “They don’t know you!” she hisses, her voice ragged.

He chuckles, and it’s a twisted, contorted, horrid sound, “Oh, and you do?” His mind is racing, his hands quickly heating up and up and up, his entire body feeling as though it’s on fire.

Heidi looks at her son. Her son. Standing in the middle of their tiny living room, a long-sleeved grey hoodie across his body, dark jeans, unlike anything she’s ever seen him wear before. She has no idea where he got it or when.

He’s staring at the ground, his eyes somewhere south of her feet, but his expression is pulled back into something animalistic, something angry, his hands balled into fists at his sides. She can see them shaking. 

His entire body is shaking.

“I thought I did.”

Finally, he looks up at her, but there isn’t surprise in his features. There’s something else, something she hasn’t seen in a very long time. 

True anger.

And.

Fear?

“You never knew me. You don’t know me. You can’t know me. You’re never here!” 

Heidi scoffs, exasperated. She does all of this for him. Every extra working hour, every extra shift, every year of more school, everything. Everything. It’s all for him. “I am trying!”

“Oh, yeah, well, you’re doing just great! Being here once a week! Wow!” Sarcasm laces his words, lashing out like a hot whip. “Just so you know, most people’s-most people’s parents try to do just a little-just a little bit better than that.”

Heidi’s arms cross her chest defensively, “I am trying my best, Evan! I mean, shit! I’m sorry if I can’t give you any more than that!”

“It’s not my fault that other people can.”

Silence. 

They stare at each other, mother and son, divided, seemingly a million miles between them.

“Who can? The Murphy’s? Is that who you’re talking about? The Murphy’s. They’re not your parents, Evan, how many times do I have to-”

“They like me!” The words ring out into the barren house, echoing around. “I don’t care if they’re not my parents, because at least they like me! Oh, and I know that’s so hard to believe, that anyone could actually like me, right? Because you think I’m so broken, so messed up, so worthless. Oh, I need all this medication, therapy, a psychiatrist, because you think I need to be fixed! Like some _machine_!”

“I don’t-” she rushes forward, feeling whiplash spread through her body. “I have never thought that-”

“I know, I know, I’m such a burden, I’m just-just the _worst thing_ that ever happened to you!”

“You!” Her voice raises, and he finally looks at her, finally listens. “You are the one good thing! The one good thing that ever happened to me, Evan!”

“You’re lying!” His entire hand is shaking rapidly against his thigh, vibrating uncontrollably, and he can’t seem to stop it. “Stop lying to me!"

The look in Heidi’s eyes is something he’ll never forget, something vulnerable cracking beneath a hard surface. “What?” She rushes forward, reaching out to grab Evan’s sides, to hold him close.

He flinches.

She stares at him, her hands immediately pulling back. 

Waving a white flag.

_She’s lying, she’s lying, she’s lying, she hates you, they all hate you._

The shaking starts getting worse.

 _I would’ve hated you, too,_ Connor whispers.

Connor isn’t there, though. It’s all in his head, it’s all in his head, all of it. It’s all in his head. _It’s all in your head._

He only ever talked to Connor twice, only ever saw him a few times, only ever felt his presence close twice.

First, when he planted his hands on either of Evan’s shoulders, shoving him to the ground, the hard pain shooting up his limbs. It hurt so much.

Last, when he gently wrapped his fingers around Evan’s cast and wrote his name, his warm fingers lingering on Evan’s as he pulled away. It all felt so soft.

That’s it. That’s all. Nothing more.

Why did he tell everyone that there was something more?

Why did he lie?

Why did he ruin it all even more?

Why is he such a failure?

Suddenly, it strikes him, just as the shaking becomes too overwhelming and his legs collapse underneath him, as his knees hit the ground, how much he wants to not be here. 

Not as in, he doesn’t want to be here, in his house, with his mother.

As in, he doesn’t want to be here, on this earth.

He doesn’t want for any of this to continue.

For his heart to keep beating.

It would be better if he didn’t. Everything would be better. Heidi wouldn’t be crouching on the ground if it weren’t for him. She wouldn’t be working extra shifts nightly if it weren’t for him. 

Everyone would be better off without him.

Jared wouldn’t have to waste time pretending that he cared. The Murphy’s wouldn’t either. Alana, too.

And, finally, his Dad would be free as well. No more child support, no more false phone calls, no more pretending that he gave a damn. None of it.

Heidi’s hands hover over his body weakly, unsure if she can touch him, or if she’ll just make everything worse. Worry etches her face, replacing her previous anger. She places a hand down on the ground beside her son, waiting. Evan doesn’t reach out to her, just curls further into himself. She can see his lips moving, but doesn’t hear any words.

“I’m not lying,” she whispers, slowly, cautiously, keeping her voice and tone as even as possible.

He doesn’t move, preoccupied with trying to regain strength in his limbs, trying to push up on his hands and knees. He doesn’t, though; he can’t. He feels as though he’s made of jelly, of rubber, flimsy to the touch, breaking with even the slightest gust of wind.

He presses his forehead into the carpet, feeling the overwhelming urge to vomit rise in his throat. “Why wouldn’t you be?”

He can feel tears leaking out of his eyes, unwarranted tears, because nothing’s happened. He’s making a big deal out of something that isn’t a big deal. Again. Just like he does every single day, just like he’s done his entire life. “How could you possibly-how could-” Did he really mess up his mother’s life enough that he’s the best part of it--him, who, to most people, is the worst part of their lives.

There’s silence, from both of them. Evan can make out the sounds of Heidi breathing heavily beside him.

“I love you, Evan.”

Evan feels like he’s choking as he pushing himself up to a sitting position, his head tucked between his knees. He can’t look at her. He can’t let her see the mess that he is. He can't let anyone see.

“How?” He asks, between shaking gasps. He doesn’t ask “Why” because that answer is obvious: biology; it’s in her DNA to love him, he read somewhere. “How” seems like the more appropriate question. How could anyone love him?

“I-I just-I just do.”

It isn’t an answer. None of it is.

She doesn’t really love you. She doesn’t have an answer, _because there’s nothing about you any reasonable person could ever love._

He remembers the way Cynthia looks at him, like he’s a good thing, a pure thing, a new thing. Something she can love, reasonably. She helps him when he’s panicking, and she doesn’t ask if he needs refills. She doesn’t treat him like one of her patients. How Larry speaks to him like an equal, like he isn’t some anxious teenager they met six months ago.

How they make time for him, asking when he’s available, basing their meetings off of him, rather than cancelling and rearranging and forcing him to change his entire life to fit their needs. 

The silence continues, perhaps only for another ten seconds, but, to Evan, it feels like an eternity; before, suddenly, the blaring, harsh noise of a phone pierces through the home.

They both jump. Evan slowly pulls the device out of his pocket, inhaling shakily as he pushes himself into a sitting position.

There’s a strange sort of finality in the movement. Like the final blast of volcanic lava has settled.

The phone continues ringing, Alana’s name shining out each time the screen lights up. 

“I have to go,” he says, still holding the device in his shaking hand as it continues to ring. 

“Evan-” she halts herself, seemingly unable to finish her thought. She’s still staring at him in a mixture of shock and worry. He realizes belatedly that the last time she actually saw him like this was three years ago. After she started crying while watching her son hyperventilate--which made everything so, so, _so_ much worse--he’s learned to hide when he’s like this, to lock himself in his room.

He’s taught himself how to weep silently, even if doing so makes him hyperventilate even more.

He pulls the hem of his shirt over his face, wiping at this shiny, sweat-covered face. He doesn’t know when he started crying, but his eyes feels hot and dry, worn high and left low.

“I have to go,” he croaks again, pushing himself to his feet, trying to ignore the way his entire body sways for a few moments.

“Evan, you cannot go out right now, we have to finish this.”

“Finish what?” He whispers, remembering vaguely all the nights he didn’t eat dinner, because he couldn’t handle ordering food for himself and he couldn’t handle buying groceries either. 

Mostly, though, he remembers waiting at the bottom of the tree, his entire arm throbbing beneath him, desperately calling his mother, waiting as it rings and rings and rings and rings. She never answered.

 _She’s just waiting until you’re out of high school before she leaves you. She’ll leave you. Just wait. Better to just cut off the ties now._ “What’s there to finish?”

Heidi looks at him, still speechless.

Evan shakes his head. “There’s nothing to finish.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was so flipping hard to write, you all have no idea. Ah!!! I don't think the fandom as a whole talks enough about Evan's suicidality, which is a very very real and important part of the story.
> 
> Anyway, the next chapter, featuring Alana, will be coming up soon. Don't worry, though, the angst won't last forever! so please stick it out! Thank you so much, and I would absolutely love to hear from you all in the comments below!
> 
> ALSO, my other fic, [A Sigh of Relief](https://archiveofourown.org/works/10710222) is set about a week or so before this chapter takes place! It has a slightly happier ending!
> 
> ALSO, if you're in the mood for some Kleinsen fluff, check out my drabble [Flowers](http://archiveofourown.org/works/10816923/chapters/24021099)!


	26. Leaked

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> here we are! there is officially a chapter count for this fic! the end is approaching! also, it's finals week in school right now and i'm trying to update, so i apologize if the quality is a little under-par, but that's why!
> 
> TW: suicide, suicidal thoughts, questionable consent and thoughts on consent, horrible self-esteem and self-esteem-related thoughts, unhealthy attempts to use sex to hold a relationship together, unhealthy views of sex in general

As soon as Evan’s feet hit the pavement, he realizes he’s made a mistake. He still continues onward, the cold night air biting his uncovered arms and bare face. He feels numb, as though he’s cut off some final string, some final part of himself.

He keeps walking until he arrives at Jared’s house, the only place left for him in this world, he thinks. He doesn’t knock; he’s not quite sure why, he just can’t stand the sound right now. Instead, he pulls out his phone. Within five minutes, Jared responds, saying he’ll be down in just a moment.

The door swings open and Jared quickly ushers him inside. “What’s going on? Evan?”

“I’m sorry, I just-I just can’t-I can’t be at the house right now.” He doesn’t say “my house,” because it isn’t, not really. He’s just an occupant. 

Jared looks at him, worried, “What happened?”

Evan slowly slips off his shoes, “It was probably for the best.” _Now she has a reason to leave you, not it's officially official, it's done, it's over with, eighteen years of your lives, gone-_

“But what happened?” Jared doesn’t give up, grabbing one of Evan’s hands and tugging him upstairs.

“I just-my Mom and I didn’t have exactly the absolute greatest of conversations,” Evan tries to chuckle, tries to make it come off as nonchalant. By the concerned look on Jared's face, he fails.

Jared cracks open his bedroom door, closing it behind them with a definitive click. “Does she-did she-”

“She didn’t figure anything out, if that’s-if that's what you’re asking.” He presses his nails into his palms until the pain becomes almost intolerable. “It was bound to happen at some-at some point anyway, so it’s not, like, it’s not, like, that big of-that big of a deal or anything, I just didn’t really want to, um, to necessarily be there anymore, if that’s alright.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course, just…” Jared pulls Evan down beside him in the bed. He’s wearing his pajamas, his hair mussed and his teeth brushed, obviously having just gotten ready for bed when Evan called him. “If you want to talk about it, or?”

“I don’t,” Evan swallows. Jared’s the one person left, the only person left. _The Murphy’s will leave you, your parents are already gone, you don’t have any friends, all that’s left is Jared, he’s the only one, the only strand of hope._ “I didn’t even come here because of that.” The lie slips out between his teeth easily, smoothly, cleanly. “I just wanted to see you.”

Jared nods slowly, thoughtfully, before sighing. “Ev, I think we should talk.” 

He flinches, his mind racing, pushing himself onto the edge of the bed. “You’re breaking up with me.” _You've ruined it, you've ruined it all, every aspect of your life, everything everything everything_

“No, no, what? That doesn’t even-” 

“That’s why you took me up here, right, that's why--so your parents wouldn't hear anything.” 

“I never- ” 

_He's leaving you._ “It’s alright if you are." _You love him more than you've ever loved anything, with his dark-rimmed glasses and his silly adorable little smile and sinful lips and-_ I’m not going to, like, cry and start breaking things, you can just tell me, just do it.” _You're going to cry so much._

“I’m not breaking up with you!” 

Evan freezes, embarrassment rushing through his body as his face heats up, _Wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong, wrong,wrong,wrongwrongwrong_ It all feels so jumbled. “Okay. Thank-thank you.” 

Jared huffs, pushing his glasses up his nose. “You don’t need to thank me.” 

“That’s good, though, that’s good news, I was-I was worried for-for a moment there.” _He’s going to break up with you eventually._ “I’m, uh, I’m glad." _There's no point in trying to stop it._ "That’s good.” _Just try to make the memories last._

“Alright?" 

Evan grabs one of Jared’s hands, holding it tightly between his fingers, the calloused skin rough against his own. It’s warm in the bedroom. He thinks, _Can I engrave the feeling of your lips against me into my mind for ever and ever because you might be the first and only person I ever kiss, and I never want to forget it._

He says, "Can I-can I kiss you?" 

Jared smiles a little, his overall expression confused but fond. He presses a chaste kiss to Evan’s warm lips before trying to pull away. Evan wraps his arms around Jared’s shoulders, keeping him close, deeply inhaling that same calming smell of Jared’s cologne, pressing his nose into Jared’s neck before tilting his head to the side, running his mouth along Jared’s jaw. 

“You’re the only person in the world, to me, right now,” Evan whispers, pulling back to meet Jared’s gaze. Green to brown, the colors of the trees. 

His brain is so slow, feeling as though he's living his entire life as a slow-motion replay. 

His brain is so fast, feeling as though it's wired with brand-new super batteries. 

Their lips meet again, Evan surging forward, and immediately Jared begins kissing him back, threading his hands into Evan’s hair, pulling their bodies flush against each other. He doesn’t really know what’s going on, his brain still a bit off from his exhaustion, but it feels good, all of it. It always feels good. _Evan_ always feels good, to him. 

Evan pushes him down against the bed, crawling over Jared, his legs on either side of his body, his thighs--glorious thighs, in Jared’s opinion--straining. And, well, this is different. They’ve done some stuff since that first day in Jared’s bedroom, a few weeks back, but they haven’t done much. 

"You are-you’re the only one that matters,” he whispers, his voice low, because he doesn’t know what else to do. He doesn’t know what’s going on, doesn’t know why he’s feeling like this, why his heart is pounding so deeply. 

He wants it to stop feeling like Jared is slipping out between his fingers like small grains of sand. 

His hands are shaking, softly, almost unnoticeably, as he presses back against Jared, his lips parting slowly as the kiss deepens. He wants there to be one thing, one thing in his entire life, that he hasn’t ruined. Jared’s entirety floods all of his senses. His hands resting on Evan’s hips, his tongue in Evan’s mouth, his cologne in the air, everything. Everything. 

He unmounts for just a moment, gracelessly flopping beside Jared on the bed before pulling Jared on top of him, craning up to continue the kiss. 

His movements aren't full of grace, really, or calculated actions, but passion instead. He presses a hand to Jared’s lower back, grinding their bodies together, relishing in the noise that escapes Jared's lips. It floods Evan senses, ringing around in his ears. He loves responses, loves constant validation, someone to tell him that he is, in fact, doing this right. Evan needs a response, needs someone to tell him that he’s not as much of a failure as he believes. 

He moves his lips more cleanly, grabbing faintly at the lower hem of Jared’s shirt and tugging it upwards, brushing his fingers across bare, hot skin. He doesn't know why he wants it, right now. Or, he does, perhaps. 

He just wants to feel human again, wants to feel wanted. To actually feel something other than this constant stream of pain and numbness. 

Jared pulls back, “Hansen, my parents are in the other room?” 

“I can be quiet,” he replies, a whisper. He wants to be warm again. 

“Okay…” Jared’s looking down at him with this tentative expression. “This isn’t really, this isn’t like you, though." 

Evan bites down on his lower lip, resisting the urge to cover his face, trying not to squirm under his boyfriend’s gaze. “Well, it’s me. I’m me. Doing this. So isn’t whatever I am doing like me?” 

“I mean, I guess so, just-” He looks down at Evan with wide eyes, trying to parse out what precisely is happening. 

Evan reaches up with one free hand, the other one still curling around Jared’s hip, tracing it down Jared’s cheek. “Can you-could you help me forget about everything else?” He presses a hand into Jared’s hip, pulling him closer. “I just-I just want it to be you. And only you.” _I need you._

“I,” Jared swallows thickly, trying to keep his breathing steady even as Evan continues to apply pressure to his lower body, “don’t know if that’s the absolute best idea.” 

Evan swallows, his heart racing, his brain racing even faster. He grabs Jared's hands between his own. _Please don't leave me._ Then he spreads his legs, trying, and probably failing, to look appealing. “What if-” he entwines his fingers with the soft hair at the base of Jared’s skull, running his tongue over his lower lip. _Please don't leave me, let me feel something, feel something real, just this once._ “What if I-what if I let you fuck me?” 

Jared's entire heart seizes. “What?!” 

Instantly, regret fills his being. “Shit-shit," he curses, the words buckling in his tongue as he clambers to apologize. For the past ten seconds to have never happened. "I’m so sorry, I didn’t mean to-I wasn’t think-I just thought that-” 

“Fuck, Evan,” Jared rolls off of him, his entire expression contorted, sitting up, his brain still slightly jarred, “I’m not gonna-you can’t just ‘let’ me have sex with you, Evan. It’s not gonna-I’m not-” Jared shakes his head roughly. “I don’t want sex to be something you ‘let’ me have, I want it to be something that-that we both want, equally, and you don’t just allow someone to do something, you want it, and they want it just as much, and then you both agree on it, equally and continually, and then--and only then--it happens, okay?” 

Evan recoils instantly, regretting essentially everything he’s ever done in his entire life. “I’m not worth it, am I.” It should be a question. It isn’t. 

“No, no, just, Ev, you’re worth the entire universe and beyond.” 

Evan covers his face with his hands, his breathing quickly increasing. He was wrong, of course Jared wouldn’t want him like that, of course he wouldn’t, no one would, no one ever would. It was a mistake. It was all a mistake. 

_Please don't leave me._

_You’re worth the entire universe and beyond._

Jared peels his hands off of his face, trying to make Evan make any sort of eye contact, but he just turns his entire head to the side, staring at some point to the side of the room. Evan’s face is burning and his hands are shaking again but he still feels winded and hot and still slightly turned-on, which makes it really difficult to focus on just about anything. 

“I’m sorry.” That's all he can think of, his sorrow. How much he regrets, about everything. 

Jared keeps looking at him--Jared always stares at him, watches his every move, watches his expressions and reactions and every little twitch. For a while, he wondered if Jared had some sort of morbid fascination with seeing Evan struggle (maybe it made Jared feels better about himself to stare at someone as horrid as Evan), _Not true, not true, he told you that wasn't true!_ ( _But what if he lied?_ )--and he covers his face again, his hot, sweaty palms pressing into his clammy cheeks. He tries to rid himself of those thoughts, because they don’t make any sense. 

Anxiety doesn’t make any sense. It’s random and unpredictable and he knows that worry about all of this all the time isn’t logical, but he can’t stop. He’s never been able to stop. 

“I don’t want our first time together to be rushed, Ev. I mean, I want you, I do. I’ve wanted you for so long, I just don’t want to wish that…” He fades off, his face scrunching like it does when he doesn’t know how to express himself. 

In that moment, that pause, Evan’s phone once again begins to buzz. He flinches, having forgotten about his previous missed call, before snatching it quickly, breathing in harshly through his nose. He reads Alana’s name again, knowing it must be important for her to call twice in a row. 

He stares at the device, before shaking his head and silencing it swiftly. He doesn’t want to talk about Connor right now. 

Jared approaches him, the dark purple bags underneath his eyes becoming more pronounced as he comes closer to the overhead light. He doesn’t speak, just watches as Evan begins to gnaw on his thumbnail, his breath coming in shallow spurts. 

_Please don't leave me._

Jared recalls the first few times he really saw Evan, really saw what was going on in his head. 

He’s always felt out of his depth in relation to all of this, but recently? All the mood swings, the panic and the sadness and this hint of desperate anger. He doesn’t even know where to start, how to even begin to help this person in front of him, the person whom he so deeply loves. 

Just then, Jared’s phone pings, its blue screen lighting up. It’s another Twitter notification, he thinks, or an email. 

Evan crosses his arms over his chest. 

_Please._

Jared’s phone pings again, and he lurches over to grab the damned thing and stop it from making noises. 

The screen alights a third time. 

He freezes, his eyes flickering over the words displayed. “Oh, fuck, fuck, fuck.” He quickly opens the device, rapidly typing in his passcode and opening the Twitter app. “Oh, fuck.” 

Evan doesn’t say anything verbally, just looks at him in confusion. 

Jared’s eyes scan down, like he’s reading something, and he covers his mouth with his hand, “Shit, shit, shit,” he begins typing rapidly. 

“What?” Evan whispers, and Jared whips around to look at him, almost as though he’d forgotten his precise, too enraptured in whatever’s occurring before his eyes. “Connor’s note’s leaked online. The suicide note. The one you wrote. Someone somehow got it and now-Christ.” 

Jared never got why the Murphy's immediately assumed Evan's letter was Connor's note, having never read it himself, but as his eyes skim over the even type, he finally understands. 

Evan’s heart might as well have dropped clean out of his chest. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EVAN DOES NOT HAVE HEALTHY VIEWS OF SEX OR HEALTHY LEVELS OF SELF-ESTEEM. He is not at a good place right now, at all, and is not doing anything to get proper help, as one should do! If you need me to tag anything else on this chapter or any chapter at all, just tell me!
> 
> Next: the murphy's/showdown y'all have been waiting months upon months to finally read! yikes!
> 
> (also, i did finally officially tag this fic as "happy ending," if that makes you feel any better)
> 
> please comment and leave kudos below! i'll love you forever and ever!


	27. I did.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan would rather them hate him than hate each other.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is an intense chapter. I'm going to say it write away. So, please prepare yourself. Also, all of the sentences that aren't actual sentences are purposeful, to show the choppy thought process in Evan's mind right now. _**TW: suicidal thoughts, references of suicide, suicidal ideation, horrible self-esteem, very low self-worth, fears of abandonment, crying, yelling.**_

_Dear Evan Hansen,_

Jared stares at the image on his screen. The small printed words blaze outward, seeming to glisten like flames before him, lashing out, repeating themselves over and over in his head.

It’s one thing to vaguely know how Evan felt. It’s another thing to truly _know_. Suddenly, there’s a major difference between the two concepts. A vast difference, one that seems to spread out beneath Jared’s feet, creating a massive chasm below him.

_Turns out it wasn’t an amazing day, after all. It isn’t going to be an amazing week or an amazing year._

Evan grabs his phone out of his hands with shaking fingers, taking two large steps away from Jared, pushing himself into the nearest wall. Evan stares at the screen, his eyes flickering up to Jared’s face every few moments but never meeting his gaze. His shoulders hunch inward, the device clutched in his hands, knuckles white.

He’s shaking, every muscle in his body tightening. “Who published this?” The three words sting through the cool air, spreading through the room like a fuse. “Who published this!”

Evan’s eyes are wild, his green irises darkened in this dim lighting, appearing almost black. His expression is contorted, somewhere between crying and yelling, between sadness and fury. He continues to flicker back and forth between the two. 

A lit match.

_Because why would it be?_

His tone expresses devastation, wholly, the words wobbling and strained.

“I don’t know,” Jared shakes his head thoroughly. “I don’t know, Evan, I don’t know why-”

“It’s on the website!” Evan’s voice shakes through the house, a tone higher than usual, strained and pitchy, unaccustomed to this loud volume. “The only person who has access to putting stuff up there is me-is me and...and-” He freezes, his hands suddenly scrabbling in his pockets, reaching for his own cell phone. He frantically types in Alana’s number, having to restart three times due to his shaking fingers and tear-obstructed vision.

Before he hits call, though, his eyes finally meet Jared’s, a pleading desperation throughout his entire being. “Did you read it?” Jared opens his mouth, then closes it, then opens it again. “Tell me-tell me, Jared, please, just tell me you didn’t read it. _Please._ Please, Jared, tell me you didn’t-”

Jared shakes his head, his face still stricken, pale. “I’m sorry,” he whispers, the words catching in his throat.

Evan’s expression contorts again, as he begins to cry. A choking sort of crying, too, where he’s trying not to make noise and only ends up restricting his breathing as a result. A half-bent-over sort of crying, a crying that doesn’t really make any sense. 

Jared blinks rapidly, his voice catching trying to figure out why exactly Evan is reacting this way. “I-Evan, I already-you told me what happened already, in the park, with your arm. It’s not-you didn’t have to hide something like that from me. I already know, and I still love you.”

“This is different, this is different, this is-” his thoughts. His actual thoughts. The thoughts that were supposed to be between him and his therapist alone, no one else. “Everyone will know-they’ll know-they’ll know, Jared, they’ll know how-how-” How broken he is.

“No, they won’t, Evan, they won’t. You...they think that Connor wrote it, yeah, they think it was Connor’s note. No one will know, please, just-” Jared’s voice breaks on the last word, as he reaches out to his boyfriend. 

The boy he’s loved for as long as he can remember. The only person in the world he would die for. 

It sounds ridiculous--they’re only high schoolers, after all--but it all feels so real. So lasting. So...forever.

“She-she published it, she must’ve, she-how did she get it, how did she-” Evan continues babbling, words strung together in orders that don’t make any sense, their letters and emphases switched all around, almost like he’s speaking another language.

_Oh, I know, because there’s Zoe, and all of my hope is pinned on Zoe, who I don’t even know. And who doesn’t know me._

“Zoe. Zoe must’ve showed it to Alana, Evan. Maybe-they needed to raise money for the orchard, for Connor, right? That’s all it is, I’m sure, to get more interest. They didn’t know, Evan. They had no way of knowing.” He’s desperate, spouting off anything he can think of, any logical explanation he can come up with for this turn of events, anything to make Evan start breathing again.

He’s trying to think clearly, but the only image that rushes through his mind is him, dressed all in black, standing next to Heidi, attending Evan’s funeral service. _Jared, he wanted to die, and you did nothing to help him. It could’ve happened, he could’ve been gone, he could’ve-_

Evan presses the call button.

It rings twice.

Alana’s voice is bright. “Evan! I’ve been trying to-”

“You published the letter-the note. You published the note. Online.”

“Yeah, I did, and donations are already rising by nearly twenty percent, Evan! I think we can do it, I think we can actually create the orchard, I think we’ll be able to!” It’s the sweetness in her voice, the sweet kindness in her voice, that makes Evan’s heart seize. Because she’s always doing the right thing, she’s always trying to help people, she’s always kind. She has anxiety, too, and she functions like a normal part of society. 

She doesn’t fuck everything up.

Evan knows it’s not his disorder that’s fucking everything up. It’s him. There’s no excuses. It’s him. He’s the problem. He is. _I am. You are._

“Why didn’t you ask me?” The words shake, and he can’t control himself. He can’t control the steady stream of tears falling from his eyes. He can’t make it stop. He can’t make any of it stop.

“I tried to! I called you numerous times, and you never picked up. I thought of waiting until tomorrow, but today is actually one of the days of the week where the most people access the Internet, so I assumed, if we wanted the greatest outreach possible, today is actually the best day, statistically.”

“I don’t care about-about statistics, Alana!” He doesn’t. Not really. They make him feel like a number, not like an actual human being. “One out of five high schoolers exhibit symptoms of depression or anxiety, Evan. You are not alone.” It never helped, just made him feel minimized.

“Well, I apologize, I was merely attempting to… Evan, we’re almost at our goal! This is a good thing!”

“How did you get it?”

“Well, I was over at the Murphy’s a while ago, and they showed it to me.” Showed it to me. 

“They ‘showed it’ to you?” He needs to stop talking. He needs to stop talking right now. He needs to never speak again. “Like a fucking piece of artwork. Like a fucking _stamp collection_ or some shit. Not like their son’s-like their son’s last words.” The curses fly out of his lips, rocketing around in his brain. 

There is silence, as Alana chooses her words carefully, trying to understand what happened, what is happening. “We thought it would increase interest in the Connor Project, that it would help the community. And it has, Evan, it has! Why are you so upset?”

_But maybe if I did, maybe if I could just talk to her, then maybe-maybe nothing would be different, I wish everything was different._

Evan’s letter. His thoughts. The ones he’s too ashamed of to even show his mother. Those words. All over the internet. For everyone to see.

He digs his fingernails into his inner wrist, watching as the skin turns red beneath them. “You didn’t, you didn’t have the right to do that! You didn’t-you didn’t even know him, he didn’t-he didn’t want anyone to see that note. He addressed it to me, just me, no one else!” He’s gasping, his chest feeling as though it’s collapsing onto him. “You didn’t know him!”

“But I know how he felt!” Alana huffs, her voice raising in volume for the first time. “I know what it feels like to be lonely and secluded and wishing that anything you said mattered, to anyone! I know how it feels, Evan! I bet you used to know what that feels like, too!”

_I wish I was a part of something._

Evan does know what that feels like. He’s known what that feels like every day of his life, every moment. Sure, maybe some kids don’t taunt him in school anymore. Don’t knocks his papers off his desk, don’t bump into him in the hallway just to watch him fall to the ground and stop breathing. Don’t laugh as he stops being able to breathe.

That doesn’t happen anymore. 

And, sure, everyone seems to know his name, somehow, and he’s rapidly approaching ten thousand Instagram follows. But he still hides in the school bathrooms during lunch sometimes, locking himself inside a stall and trying to stop himself from falling apart.

Wanting so badly to be a part of something.

Wanting it so much that it hurts.

But not being able to do it, not being able to pull it off. 

Wanting to disappear while simultaneously wanting to step into the spotlight.

He knows what that feels like. More than anything else.

_I wish that anything I said mattered. To anyone._

“If you really knew what that felt like, Alana, then you wouldn’t be here right now.”

He didn’t mean to say that. He didn’t mean to think that. He didn’t mean to.

Her breath catches. “What does that mean?”

He didn’t mean to. “I’m sorry, it didn’t-I’m sorry, I-” He snaps his phone closed before he can do anything else wrong. Before he can mess up another thing. Yet another thing.

Because, face it, would anyone even notice if I just...disappeared. Tomorrow.

Jared is beside him, his entire expression broken. There are tears brimming in the corner of his eyes, threatening to spill. 

Evan is a monster.

He’s really a monster.

He needs to leave, needs to get out of here, needs to start over, needs to get away from Jared before he messes this up too. Before he ruins another thing. Yet another thing. 

He’s lost his father.

His mother.

Charlie.

Alana.

He can’t lose Jared too.

“I’m sorry, I’m so sorry, I have to go and talk to the Murphy’s, I have to go and-and...” _Do what? Do what, Evan? What’re you gonna do?_ “I have to see them.”

Jared stares at the boy before him--and that’s what he looks like, too, a boy. So young with tear stains on his cheeks and a pure, total, full-body devastation. Feeling everything to the fullest extent humanly possible.

“I can drive you there,” Jared suggests, trying to keep the panic rising in his stomach out of his voice. Evan doesn’t need that. He needs to be put-together, reasonable. He needs to be stable, something for Evan to grab onto and stop himself from falling.

_What if he pulls you down with him?_ The thought enters Jared’s brain abruptly, and he quickly dismisses it. If Evan pulls Jared down with him, then… Well, then they’ll create a nice little home at the bottom of whatever abyss they end up in. 

They’ll find a way.

They get into the car more quickly than expected, Evan’s leg jiggling up and down the entire time. Jared finds himself copying the movement himself.

Dark surroundings pass them rapidly, all the details blurring together, before they suddenly arrive outside of the Murphy household.

Jared stares at the house, almost too large. Daunting. “Are you sure you want to see them? Maybe… We should just sleep, Evan, sleep it all off, it’ll feel better tomorrow, it won’t feel so helpless tomorrow, it’ll be better.”

Evan swallows. “I need to-” Make sure everything it’s ruined. Make sure they’re okay. Make sure I’m just overreacting. He doesn’t really know what he needs to do, honestly. “I just-I’m sorry, I-” he grabs the door handle with sweaty fingers, fumbling with the lock, tumbling out of the car. 

Jared unbuckles, moving for his own door. He wants to be there, wants to support his boyfriend, wants to make sure nothing goes ary. Evan’s entire body flinches backwards when he touches the handle, his hands fluttering out, “Don’t, please, don’t-I’m sorry, you don’t need to-” He’s such an inconvenience. He’s such a monster. 

He doesn’t want Jared to see him for a single second longer tonight. Doesn’t want Jared to see him lie. Not like this.

“Please,” he murmurs.

Jared’s jaw clenches, his lower lip passing over his sharp teeth. “I’ll wait out here.” 

His voice is low, smooth, and Evan wants to wrap himself in it. Wrap himself in Jared’s arms and never leave, just live there forever, live there forever and ignore all of this.

“Right out here. If you want me, I’ll be here. Right here.”

Evan ducks into the vehicle again, his entire being itching to press into Jared’s body. He knows if he does, though, he’ll never leave again. He just brushes his fingertips over the soft skin of Jared’s cheek, implanting the memory in his mind. 

He pulls away before Jared can grab his hand.

He closes the door before he can change his mind.

His knuckles feel rough against the door. He hates knocking on doors. Hates it so much. The noise just reverberates through his mind, over and over and over.

_Sincerely, your best and most dearest friend, me._

Cynthia pulls the door open, thankfully, after a single knock, quickly herding him inside, her eyes drifting over the car for a moment, worried. “Evan? Darling, it’s nearly midnight?” There’s kindness there, in her words, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

There are voices in the kitchen, a phone ringing. Larry’s voice, muffled between the walls. The sound of the phone disconnecting. Fingers typing on a keyboard.

“Jesus Christ, Cynthia, some of these people are adults! Look at their pictures. These are adults!”

Cynthia looks to him, her expression pained. “Alana told you about Connor’s...about Connor’s note, right? It isn’t-there’s been a whole variety of reactions.” She’s trying too hard to appear calm; it doesn’t look right.

They walk to the dining room. Mr. Murphy and Zoe sit at the table.

Zoe huffs, her eyes wild, gesturing to the computer screen. “Do you see this one? ‘The Murphy’s are stuck-up rich pigs who never cared about their son. Connor addressed his letter to Evan Hansen because he knew his parents didn’t give a-’”

Mrs. Murphy grimaces. “Stop, Zoe! Stop!”

“Just log off,” Larry suggests. “It’ll blow over by tomorrow. Just ignore it.”

“Oh, ‘Just ignore it’?” Cynthia repeats, marching towards her husband, any remnant of her once-calm demeanor vanishing.

“Yes, ignore it. There’s enough money for the orchard, there’s-this note is helping people. It’s creating a movement. These people-” he motions to the screen “are a small minority of it all. Just ignore them.”

“Ignore them like you ignored Connor?” Zoe hisses, turning on her father.

Evan stands back, helpless, watching his entire world crumble.

Mrs. Murphy nods, “Listen to your daughter, Larry!”

Then, Zoe turns on her, “Oh, you think you were any better? You let him do whatever he wanted!”

“The last thing he needed was another yoga retreat!” Larry yells, raising to his feet.

“He needed help! He needed medication, and therapy. He needed help!” Cynthia’s voice raising to a scream. “Do you remember-do you remember what you said, the first time he tried to kill himself? ‘He just wants attention’!”

Larry’s face contorts. “I was trying!”

“And you were failing!”

Zoe stands, her fists clenched by her sides. “We were all failing!”

Cynthia ignores her, grabbing the laptop from the table, holding the screen to her husband’s face. “Read it! Read what he wrote, Larry! ‘Would anyone even notice if I just disappeared tomorrow’!”

All Evan wanted was to help them. In the principal’s office, all he wanted was to make Mrs. Murphy stop crying. He just wanted to help.

It’s all his fault.

“He was-”

He’d rather them hate him than hate each other.

“Read it!” Mrs. Murphy repeats. “Read what he wrote!”

Evan cries out, “He didn’t write it! I did.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry for another cliff hanger, please please please don't yell at me omg. This chapter was already the longest chapter of the entire story, and I didn't want to squeeze a reaction in without giving it full justice. I'll try to update ASAP (comments speed up the process greatly lol). I love you all, thank you so much for reading this. I'm here any time and all the time to talk about absolutely anything. Send me an ask on Tumblr. Put a comment down below. Anything. I'm here for you all, and I love you all so much! ***REMEMBER THAT THERE'S A "HAPPY ENDING" TAG SO DON'T GIVE UP, MY FRIENDS***


	28. Okay.

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Normally, Evan is breaking.
> 
> This Evan, though… Jared thinks this Evan may already be broken.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: depressed thoughts, mentions of suicide, low self-esteem, fear of abandonment, a panic attack.

“Read it!” Mrs. Murphy repeats. “Read what he wrote!”

Evan cries out, “He didn’t write it! I did.”

Instantly, all eyes turn to him. Silence.

“You didn’t write Connor’s suicide note, Evan.” Cynthia’s hands are curled by her side.

“It wasn’t-it wasn’t-it was-” Every word burns his tongue on its way out. Every syllable rips another hole in his heart. “It was an assignment from my-my therapist, ‘Dear Evan Hansen, this is going to be a good day, and here’s why.’”

Zoe shakes her head, back and forth, back and forth, “What are you talking about?”

“Your arm,” Cynthia says, “You and Connor, at the orchard..."

“I broke my arm by myself at Ellison State Park, I-” The words tumble out, uncontrollably. He just wants to help them. That’s all he wants. To help them. To help anyone. 

He remembers that day, in the principal’s office. He said to them, he said that Connor didn’t write the note. He did, twice, in fact, but they just kept speaking, they ignored him, because-because it doesn’t make any sense. It never made any sense.

Evan doesn’t know when he started crying, all he knows is that his next words are rocky with tears. “I didn’t know him.”

They can hate him, they can all hate him, he’s used to it, just as long as they don’t hate each other.

Just as long as they don’t hate themselves.

He remembers Connor’s long fingers wrapped around his wrist, pulling him forward in the computer lab. How, for just a second, Evan thought, _What if?_ Before the letter ruined everything. Before it kept ruining everything.

Cynthia gasps, her hands covering her mouth, “No, no, no-”

He chokes, his breath catching, “We weren’t even friends.” He can’t look at them, he can’t see the disappointment in their eyes, the horror, the hatred, the disgust. “I know-I know I can’t-can’t do anything to make you-to make you, I just-there’s not an excuse, there’s not but I just-” 

Five weeks ago, Evan sat in front of his bathroom mirror, and practiced these words, practiced how he could possibly explain this or help this. He practiced them, over and over until his tongue was numb, but the words vanish from his mind.

“There’s not an excuse for what I did, and I can’t-I can’t possibly-possibly-I never thought that it would go this far. I never-there’s not a worthy explanation, I know, I know there isn’t and I’m so-I’m so _sorry_.” 

They’re going to tell everyone, tell everyone the truth. They’ll tell everyone, and all those news sites will pick up on it and publish about it, and then everyone in the world will know the truth. No college will accept him, they’ll refuse to give him any scholarships, they’ll throw away his application.

Heidi will kick him out, because why wouldn’t she, because he’s been fucking up her life for the past eighteen years, and all of her friends on Facebook will comment things like “I’m so glad you’ve finally gotten rid of him, you’re finally free” and then Evan will have no one to go to. Because Evan’s Dad sure as hell isn’t going to accept him. 

No one else will take him, because Jared’s going off to college at the end of the year, and, as previously stated, Evan won’t be able to get into any, so he can’t go there, and he can’t very well live with Jared in the dorms. 

So Evan will be homeless with no source of income--he won't be able get a job because no one will hire a liar--and then he’ll be homeless and alone on the street and-and all….All for what?

For what? For what? To feel a little less alone? To stop Mrs. Murphy from crying in that principal’s office that one day? 

Why, why, why, why, why didn’t he stop it at that dinner, that first time, why didn’t he just explain to them that it was all a mistake then, that he honestly didn’t know Connor, that maybe... 

He could’ve said a different Connor signed his cast. It would’ve been over in about ten minutes. 

None of this six months of lying.

That’s not it, though.

He can deal with suffering, he can, he can deal with it. He could live on the street, he could be able to.

What he can't deal with is _this_ , with knowing, for the rest of his life, that he disappointed them, these three people, who’ve gone through so much pain, who’ve dealt with so much...

He could’ve stopped it all. He could’ve ended it all. He could’ve-

“How could you?” Zoe’s voice is quiet, deadly, suffocating Evan at every corner. Pressing down on his sternum. 

The entire room feels electrocuted.

Cynthia walks past Evan, her shoulders hunched inwards, tears running down her paled cheeks, not touching him. He tries to speak, tries to say something, tries to apologize again, but all that comes out is a choked sob. 

He can’t just apologize, that isn’t enough. None of it will ever be enough.

Zoe brushes past him, her hand over her mouth, her eyes on the ground, in silence. 

He’s a monster, he’s a monster, he’s a-

Larry approaches him, his steps slow and careful, his expression complex. 

Evan looks directly into his eyes. Maybe for the last time. He opens his mouth for just a second, trying, trying, _trying_ to say something, something, _anything_. 

To apologize?

To explain?

Larry strides past him, following his wife and daughter, his family. His family.

 _You're not a part of this family, Evan._ Connor whispers, a grey sweatshirt pulled across his shoulders. The same one Evan is wearing right now. _You're never going to be._ Connor leaves, but he doesn't follow his family. Instead, he walks out the other entrance, towards the front door.

Evan blinks.

There's no one there.

They left him, standing in the dining room, tears and snot and saliva running down his face. He doesn’t move, doesn’t speak, other than gasping inhalations. His heart is pounding, reverberating through his rib cage and across his body, electrified.

There’s nothing he can do.

The cold air hits his face.

He isn’t sure how or when he moves outside, but evidently, it happens eventually. 

Jared stands directly outside of the house, his car dark. He reaches out instantly, reaching for Evan. “What is-Ev?”

“I told them.” His eyes are dark, any hint of green vanishing in the dim light.

“Told them what?”

“Connor. The truth.” 

Jared reaches out, his fingers curling around Evan’s ears, brushing his thumbs underneath Evan’s eyes. Evan looks up, and Jared freezes. He holds Evan tighter, his eyes searching and searching, looking for something. 

Something he doesn’t find.

When Evan blinks, it isn’t right. His eyes aren’t right, none of it is. There’s something off, a dimness where there used to be light. A matte over his eyes, rather than a gleam. He looks right back at Jared, but he doesn’t really _look_ at him. 

Jared doesn’t know who’s looking back at him.

“Evan?” He runs one hand through Evan’s hair, his other fingers pressing into Evan’s jaw, tilting his head back to Jared. “Evan, please, look at me.”

Evan’s throat works for a few moments, his vocal box jerking, “I am.”

Jared shakes his head, quiet fear beginning to slip through his body, quickly growing louder and louder until he can’t silence it. Evan’s chest stills, his entire body growing immobile. He isn’t breathing.

He grabs Evan underneath his arms, trying to simultaneously stabilize him and mobilize him. “Come on, come on, Ev, let’s get to the car, let’s, come on, you can do it,” he keeps babbling nonsense, hoping it will bring his boyfriend back.

They slump into the backseats of the car, Jared pressing the overhead light on, illuminating their bodies with fluorescents. He keeps mumbling, pressing two fingers into the space beneath Evan’s jaw, trying to count out his heartbeat. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. Ba-dum. “Breathe with me, Evan, just breathe with me.”

Jared has only experienced a few of Evan’s panic attacks in his lifetime. Normally, Evan locks himself away until their over, shirks away from any sort of contact, curls in on himself. Normally, Evan cries until he can’t breathe, then gasps until he can’t cry anymore. Normally, Evan is loud, choking, wheezing, coughing. Normally, Evan presses a hand between his teeth until he tastes blood, muffling all those noises.

He doesn’t do any of those things this time.

He’s quiet now, too quiet. His posture isn’t curled, tight, tense, but loose, limp, comatose. He isn’t sobbing; instead, tears just fall from his eyes as though he has no control over it, as though he is completely unaware of it happening.

Normally, Evan is breaking.

This Evan, though… Jared thinks this Evan may already be broken.

“Please, Evan, Evan, breathe with me, just breathe with me, please, count through it, count with me.” 

Jared isn’t a domestic person. He doesn’t daydream about doing the dishes or any of that. He doesn't. He doesn’t know how to express himself, and, if he ever tries, it’s bound to end up do much more damage than help. 

He responds to genuine emotions with sarcasm. 

He hurts the people around him for fear of being hurt himself. 

He abandons books before he even gets to the second chapter.

This thing with Evan, though, this relationship, it throws everything off-center, pitches Jared’s entire existence ten feet to the left.

He’s struck, sometimes, by how much he wants to be with Evan, and Evan alone, for however much time they are given, to live out his days beside this boy. How, sometimes, it’s all so overwhelming that he can’t feel anything else.

“Please just count with me, Evan.”

Evan falls into the other boy, his nose pressing into the side of Jared’s hip, his shoulders finally moving again, panting inhales filling his lungs.

“One, Evan, one. Evan, breathe in with me?” He keeps whispering, keeps speaking until Evan stops gasping so desperately.

“One,” Evan grits out, so faint that Jared doesn’t register it at first. “One,” he repeats, breathing in through his nose, clamping his mouth shut.

“Two, three, four,” Jared continues, his fingers gripping into Evan’s shoulders.

“Two, three, four,” Evan inhales further, before releasing it, counting up to four again. In and out. In and out. 

In and out.

Evan presses up, his limbs slowly regaining tension, pushing upwards. In and out. 

In and out.

Jared reaches forward, letting out a breath he didn’t know he was holding when Evan doesn’t flinch away, placing one hand on Evan’s neck. The muscles move underneath his fingers as Evan swallows. “Don’t leave me, Jared.” The four words are low, gravely, weak. “Don’t leave me.”

“I won’t, I’m not going to, I’m not going anywhere, Evan, I promise.”

“You can’t promise that, you can’t, what if-you can’t promise that.” Evan’s shaking his head, pressing his fingers into the bone underneath his eye. “We’re going to be-you’ll be eighty years old, and what if you get sick, and you’ll leave me then. You can’t promise anything.” 

Jared should probably be focusing on about a million different things in that statement, but the only part his brain latches onto is _Evan still wants to be with you when you’re eighty_. Eighty. 

Somehow, someway, alarm rings don’t start ringing in Jared’s head. 

Still, he doesn’t know how to respond to that, how to do anything. 

He’s lost, wandering around a forest with a blindfold tied around his eyes.

Instead, he curls Evan’s body against his, Evan’s breath hot against his ear. He’s still crying, silently.

“I’m not going anywhere, Evan,” he whispers, pressing a hand into the space above Evan’s heart, feeling its hammering beat against his skin. “I’m staying here. Right here.”

“They’ll tell everyone,” Evan says. “They’ll all hate me.” 

Once, Evan pretended that he didn’t care what other people thought about him. Once, Evan tried to be above it all, tried to pretend that it didn’t affect him, that he was made of teflon. Now, he knows that it was a waste of effort, all those years spent trying to not care. The truth is, he cares too much.

“They should. Once they know what I did. I would.” _I do._

Jared doesn’t argue with him, doesn’t bring up the fact that they’ll all realize his role in this whole thing as well, hate him just like Evan. He doesn’t say any of that.

Evan clenches his hands tightly, his eyes trained just below Jared’s chin. “You would, too, if you knew-if you really knew me.”

“I do know you,” Jared wraps his arms around Evan. “I do know you, and I love you.”

Evan is silent.

_Step into the sun._

“They deserved so much more. They deserve so much more than I ever gave them. They didn't-" he trails off, lost for words.

"Hey," Jared squeezes his boyfriend a bit tighter. "I know it all feels so-so present, right now, but it won’t always feel like that.” He doesn’t know where any of this coming from, where these words of wisdom originated. “It won’t always feel like that.”

Evan shakes his head, his teeth digging into his lips, his hands twitching.

They have so much work to do.

“One day, we’ll look back on this and wonder what the hell we were doing in high school. We’ll wonder why we took everything so seriously.” Methodically cracking each of his knuckles, Jared continues. “You’ll turn to me and say, ‘Fuck, you remember all that shit that happened senior year, I’m so fucking glad we got through that, I’m so fucking glad we didn’t let it take over everything.’ And I’ll say, ‘Yeah. You’re right, but can we please get back to rewatching The Great British Bakeoff.’” 

Evan chuckles wetly, still shaking his head. In and out. His breathing begins to even slightly. 

“You’re not gonna forget about it, Connor’s not gonna disappear, all of this isn’t just going to go away. But maybe, maybe in ten years, it’ll burn a whole lot less brightly.”

“I don’t think so,” Evan whispers. 

Jared clears his throat, pressing his lips into Evan's forehead, moving against the soft skin. “Do you remember... Do you remember when I was-when I was about nine, and my dad started spending less and less time at the house? And you’d been here for about two years by then, and our moms drank red wine together on the weekends?”

Before they got so busy, before neither of them had time for friendships anymore.

Nodding, Evan murmurs, “Yeah.”

“And we had a sleepover, one night, right after he moved out of the house. And my Mom mentioned it to you, just in passing, and you started telling me about your own Dad? And you kept talking about this truck, and I didn’t really get anything you were saying, but you were talking to me and-and...”

“That was the only time I ever really saw you cry.” Evan nods, gesturing vaguely, his mind drifting. 

He only wanted to help them.

His entire body aches, searing pains shooting up his every muscle. “Before…”

Jared tightens his embrace again, bring Evan back into the present, out of that labyrinth. “And I told you not to tell anyone, not to tell my mother, and you promised not to tell her, ‘cause I didn’t want her to know how it was all messing me up. I just wanted to ignore it. I just wanted it to all go away.” Jared clears his throat again, memories flooding his mind. 

“But you--after you thought I was asleep--you went downstairs and told my Mom everything, told her that you thought I wasn’t okay, no matter how many times I said I was. And when you came back upstairs, you told me that you had just been in the bathroom. And I was so...so fucking angry after I figured out what you did, but I-but it helped. Evan, it helped. In the long run. It did. So I forgave you for breaking a promise, for lying.”

“Are you saying-” Evan rubs at his nose, “Are you saying that the Murphy’s will forgive me?” It's not that easy. What he did, what he's guilty of...

Jared runs his hands over the smooth pleather seating, shaking his head. “I called Heidi, when you were in there. I think you need to talk to her.”

They’re both so young, so ridiculously young. Too young for all of this.

Evan pulls the hem of his shirt up, running the fabric over his face. He breathes. In and out. He hears Dr. Sherman's voice in his head, _"Sometimes, Evan, sometimes it's about surviving. You can worry about thriving later. But, for now, just survive."_ “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah-yeah. Okay.”

Evan moves to the passenger’s seat. Jared moves to the driver’s seat. 

Evan keeps breathing, just barely.

They drive home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TWO MORE CHAPTERS LEFT. I REPEAT: TWO MORE CHAPTERS LEFT. (Also, to be clear, this isn't some sort of Ghost!Connor thing. Evan, like he is in the musical, is imagining/hallucinating Connor's presence here. It's like his guilt materialized/personified.)
> 
> Also! Some soft Kleinsen!! We need more of it!!
> 
> Thank you all so so so much for reading!!! Comments and kudos are what fuels me in this final-exam-filled time! Love you all!


	29. Aluminium Floors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> As Evan's feet hit the aluminum floors of the hospital, it feels like an ending.
> 
> But it isn’t, he remembers, clutching Jared’s hand tightly in his, recalling the words Jared whispered into his ear a few moments ago: “It’s just the beginning.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry this chapter is so delayed! I just finished sophomore year, and my finals were absolutely absurd!! And! Congratulations to the cast/crew/entire team of Dear Evan Hansen on all their lovely Tony wins! (TONY WINNER BEN PLATT!)
> 
> There's also some time changes in here! First, it's Evan and Jared, right after the events of last chapter. Then, it's Evan and Jared a few days later. Then, it's Zoe, right after the events of last chapter and continuing beyond a few months later. These moments are all separated with "----".
> 
> TW: suicidal thoughts, references to suicidal actions, neglectful actions, mention of character death (Connor's)

Heidi is sitting on the couch, the letter in her hands, her knuckles white, her eyes wide as they flit down the page.

Evan is standing across from her, his entire frame compressed, shoulders hunched, eyes trained on the floor, folding himself into the smallest shape possible.

Jared closes his eyes briefly, trying to take a deep, steadying breath. He’s standing beside Evan, but they’re not touching, a sizable space between their two bodies. A distance that feels like two oceans.

“This letter...” Ms. Hansen blinks, clearing her throat, “You wrote this letter?”

Evan nods jerkily, unable to speak, his throat too dry. One of his hands reaches forward instinctively, grasping ( _grasping for what?_ ), but he freezes mid-motion, his arm dropping back to his side. He nods again, his gaze flickering up to his mother before returning to the ground. 

“I didn’t know.”

“No one did,” Evan says, his voice barely above a murmur, his thumb and his middle finger rubbing against each other repetitively at his side. Over and over and over, he repeats the motion.

“No, I didn’t mean-” She shakes her head, placing the letter down beside her. “I didn’t know you were feeling that way.”

Evan’s head snaps upwards in shock, his eyes widening, “What?” It’s a single word, but contained it in is every emotion, a strange mixture of fear and confusion lacing its inflection.

“I didn’t know that you were-that you were seeing the world this way.”

Evan’s jaw locks, his eyes flitting over to Jared. “I-” 

Jared can see the thought appear in his eyes, the instinct to lie flickering across his expression, the instinct to deny and omit and refuse. Evan doesn’t, though, he doesn’t deny it, doesn’t fall apart in shame.

Instead, he swallows thickly, "I'm sorry."

“No, no, don’t-” Heidi shakes her head. “ _I’m_ sorry I didn’t notice.”

Evan takes a single step forward, tentatively, watching Heidi’s hands like he’s worried she’ll push him away. “You didn’t… No one noticed, it wasn’t-it wasn’t…” 

He's so guilty. _Guilty, guilty, guilty..._

Evan’s mother reaches out with a single hand, her fingers outstretched. An offering. An olive branch. Her son stares at it for a few moments, body tense, unsure, before slowly, cautiously, accepting it. He joins her on the couch, his body carefully not making any contact with hers.

Jared watches as Evan’s green eyes meet Heidi’s blue, and suddenly, he’s struck with their resemblance. The way they hold themselves, never centered, always slightly to one side. The way they brush the tip of their noses when they don’t know what to say. The way they can’t ever sit still, always rocking from one side to another or crossing and uncrossing their legs.

Evan turns to him, his soft eyes searching. And, then, he extends a hand, palm up, arm extended, just like his mother. Jared stares at him for a few moments, still unsure if he should even be there. He watches as Evan’s throat jerks, his eyebrows drawing up and together, “Please?”

Pushing himself out of his revery, Jared places himself back in this moment, grasping Evan’s hand just before he drops it. He sits, too, still unsure, uncomfortable in his own skin. He isn’t part of this family, he shouldn’t be here, he shouldn’t-

Evan places a single hand on his thigh, fingers curling into his skin, and Jared suddenly realizes how much the other boy needs this, needs him. It takes his breath away, steals it all in a magnificent heartbeat.

Jared wraps his grasp around Evan’s slender wrist, brushing his thumb soothingly over the soft skin of his inner wrist, trying to convey that he wants to be here, wants to support his boyfriend, that he just doesn’t know what to do, how to help.

Ms. Hansen’s gaze lands on their connected hands, but she doesn’t say anything, just smiles softly at Jared. The expression quickly drops, though, as Heidi’s mind returns to the situation at hand. “Do you,” she clears her throat again, “do you still feel like that? Still feel what you wrote in the letter?”

His teeth digging into his lower lip, Evan remains silent for a few seconds. His mind races through the last twenty-four hours. Everything he’s done. Everything he’s said. Everything he’s thought. _Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty..._ Finally, he whispers, “Yes.” It’s the truth, it’s beyond the truth. He looks at the cast, the blinding white gauze, the name scribbled across it. The name he’s thought every day since-every day since-since… 

Heidi’s expression tightens, her eyes falling close. “What do we do?”

Evan pulls his hand away from Jared, wrapping his arm around his waist, fingers digging into the space between his ribs. “I don’t know.”

“Have you-” Jared stops, inhaling deeply, nostrils flaring. His heart feels like it’s made of stone. “Have you thought about-about hospitalization?” He wants Evan to be okay. He needs Evan to be okay. He just-he can’t imagine… All he wants is for Evan to be happy, to be good, to live and thrive, to get through everything and grow beyond it.

Evan curls further in on himself, “No, no, we can’t do that, I’m not doing that, I’m not.”

“Evan, maybe,” Heidi meets Jared’s gaze over her son’s hunched form, and there's a million words left unsaid within that connection. “Maybe that would be best?” 

Those forest green eyes begin to fill with tears, Evan's limbs growing heavier with each second. “We can’t do that-it’s not, that’s-the average time in a-" Mental hospital. Ward. Asylum. He knows that's not what they're called anymore, knows that he shouldn't be ashamed, that he shouldn't hate himself, but he does, he does, he does. "The average time in a _hospitalization_ is nine days and the average cost per stay is-is five thousand and seven hundred dollars, which would be six hundred and thirty-three dollars per night, and I can’t-we don’t have that money, we can’t-not for this.” Those numbers have been rattling around in his brain since he Googled the costs earlier this summer, ricocheting around.

“You need to get better,” she whispers.

“I can get better on my own, I can-I should’ve-” For a brief second, the thought rushes through his mind. _I should’ve climbed higher._ He tries to brush it aside, tries to forget it, tries to move on, but those four words just keep repeating over and over and over and he doesn’t know when he started crying.

“Please, Evan, please.” A single tear falls from down Heidi’s face, and she quickly wipes it away, reaches for her son again, peaceful. “I won’t make you do anything, I just-tell me how to help-tell me-”

“You shouldn’t help me,” Evan hisses. “The things I did, the things I did, you shouldn’t, no one should, I deserve-”

_Guilty, guilty, guilty, guilty..._

Jared swallows thickly, “You deserve to forgive yourself.”

Two pairs of light eyes flicker to him, one surprised, the other hopeful.

“Our insurance,” Heidi offers. “It would cover some of it.”

Evan shakes his head, “But not all of it, it’s too much, you’re already, we don’t… What about-what about school, I can’t miss that much, I can’t-”

“Four days, Evan. What about that? Four days. That’d be-that’d be two thousand or so-”

The things they could do with two thousand extra dollars. The things Heidi could fix, the things they could do, the things that aren’t Evan, aren’t Evan’s silly problems. He just needs to get over himself, just needs to-

“Please, Evan. Four days.”

He shakes his head again, clenching his hands around the fabric around his thighs. “I can get better on my own, Mom, I can-” 

“We’ve tried that, Evan. It isn’t working.”

The air is silent. Thick with salty tears. Thick with words unsaid. A minute passes.

Finally, Evan turns, his movements jerky. 

Then, he hugs his mother. 

“It isn’t working.” His voice is barely above a whisper, muffled into Heidi’s shoulder. “It isn’t working, it isn’t working, it isn’t.”

Her arms wrap around him tightly, her hands pressed against the bony angles of his protruding shoulders. 

She nods, “We’ll figure it out, honey.” Evan pulls back slowly, and his mother wipes at his eyes, brushing his tears away. “We always figure it out.”

\-----------------------------------

Evan hugs Jared so tightly, his lips pressed chastely into the space between Jared’s jaw and neck, his fingers running through Jared’s hair, grasping at every inch of him. Holding him tightly like this is the last time. 

Like this is the end. 

It isn’t, though. 

"It’s just the beginning," Jared breathes, clutching the other tightly.

Jared walks him into the building, one of his hands wrapping around Evan’s, Heidi’s hand on her son's back, guiding him.

Evan’s admitted voluntarily as an adult. They don’t put a timestamp on his release, but Jared knows Evan won’t stay longer than a few days, too worried about costs. Heidi has spoken with their insurance, found which hospitals accept their insurance, charging them a much lower price than usual, but it’s still a lot. Nearly too much. 

They’ll figure it out, he reminds himself. _They always do._

As Evan's feet hit the aluminum floors of the hospital, it feels like an ending.

But it isn’t, he remembers, clutching Jared’s hand tightly in his, recalling the words Jared whispered into his ear a few moments ago: “It’s just the beginning.”

\------------------------------------

Zoe doesn’t know what she’s going to do. She can’t look at him, at this quivering, sobbing mess in front of her. She can’t _stop_ looking at him. 

His words keep replaying in her head long after he’s gone. “He didn’t write it! I did.”

How could he? How could he? _How could you?_

Everything she’s known over the last few months begins rocketing around her mind, crashing against the walls and crumbling. Was any of it true? Did Evan even like them? Did Evan even really consider her a friend? Did Evan use them for his own gain?

No, no, no, she can’t think this way, she can’t do this to herself, she can’t. 

She doesn’t cry. She doesn’t do much of anything, really. 

She feels too numb. 

She doesn’t feel anything as her mother wraps tugs her close. 

They don’t say anything, and Zoe’s mind is ringing so loudly that she can’t hear Cynthia begin to cry. 

Larry joins them, at some point, she’s not sure when. He stands in the center of the room, body stiff with shock.

Sometimes Zoe thinks she’s too much like her parents. The quiet stoic nature of Larry, a sheet of ice covering a real human being. The deep caring of Cynthia, the barely hidden desire for something, anything, better. 

Sometimes Zoe thinks she’s too different from her parents. She reaches out while Larry turns away. She guards herself while Cynthia opens up.

She remembers when Connor was younger, when he would reach out to her, sweet like his mother. Back when she remembered the sound of his laugh and how crinkles looked beside his bright eyes. Back before he started locking his door at the time, pushing her away, shoving his family aside.

Before she started feeling embarrassed whenever she brought anyone over, started begging her friends to have sleepovers at their houses, because she didn’t want any of them to see Connor. To wonder how in the world they were related. To wonder whether or not she was anything like him.

She was, though. Zoe was like him, sometimes. 

Sometimes their blood felt so connected, she didn’t know what to do. She’d see family photos and watch the way her disdainful expression matched her brother’s. Watch how they held themselves the same way, shoulders tucked but chin up. Watch how they would laugh at the same jokes, meeting each other’s eyes for a moment before remembering that they were supposed to hate each other.

She felt guilty for a long time. She told herself that she could’ve helped him, could’ve reached out, could’ve made an effort. She told herself that he wasn’t ever that bad, that it wasn’t his fault, that she was the mean one. 

She started drowning.

Then, she felt angry. Angry at Connor for giving up all of the gifts he was given, for throwing them aside, for throwing his life aside like it didn’t matter to anyone. She thought he was selfish, giving up when the times got rough and forcing the rest of them to deal with the consequences.

And finally, she took a step back. She took a deep breath. She forced herself to act like an adult, not the sixteen-year-old she truly was. Depression is an illness, just like anything else, she reminded herself. Just like cancer and heart disease. It needed to be treated. And it wasn’t. So, she thought, Connor died, just like someone with worsening cancer who never went to chemotherapy would. 

She tried to reason through it again and again.

Until finally Zoe realized that none of it was logical. That you can’t explain away emotions with logic.

Zoe forgave her brother, somewhere throughout this process. Forgave him for all the times he slammed the door in her face, for all the times he yelled and screamed, for everything. 

Zoe knows that some people would argue that her brother wasn’t worth forgiving. She knows that some people would prefer to live their lives feeling something between guilt and fury. She knows this. But she isn’t some people. She’s only herself.

So, she does forgive him. In her own way. In her own time. Little steps spread out over months and months until they finally become one big step forward. 

She forgives him little by little every time she remembers. 

It’s not all, “Oh, remember that time, when you were six and Connor was eight and you walked to the park together and played on the swings.” In fact, most of it isn’t like that. 

Instead, it’s more of, “Remember that time, when you were all sitting at the dining table. Dad to your left, scrolling through seemingly endless email on his cellphone, occasionally taking a dry bite out of a piece of toast but never engaging. Mom sitting to your right, turned towards you, asking you about your weekend. Your response, talking about about your friends, your jazz band concert, your social life. And Mom smiled at you the whole time, nodding, as you finished...and then didn’t ask Connor a single question. When Connor just sat there, pushing food around his plate without taking a single bite, forgotten by the rest of the table. Forgotten even by himself.”

Zoe remembers moments like those, horrified to realize just how many family outings were spent just like that. Dad on his phone. Mom ignoring her son. She remembers how, if they ever would engage Connor, it would either be by berating him about any number of things, or talking about him when he was _right there._

Zoe remembers Dad talking to Mom about all the ways Connor needed to shape up, how he needed to cut his hair and stop painting his nails and start going to school more and start actually having friends. She remembers Mom agreeing. Mostly, though, she remembers Connor’s chilled blue and brown eyes watching them, fluttering back and forth and just _taking it._

She wonders if that’s why Connor started acting out. Because, before, he would get nothing. Before, he was a mediocre student and a quiet kid, preferring to keep to himself, sprawling out on the ground, a book in his hand, someone who would fall under anyone’s radar, who was left alone nearly all the time.

She wonders if he began to lash out to make it seem like having no friends was his choice, rather than anything else. If he began filling with anger in the hopes that bad attention would be better than none.

Zoe wanders down so many pathways until she finally arrives at the truth. Connor was a mentally ill teenager. The neurotransmitters in his brain weren’t working. He was a mentally ill teenager who asked for treatment, who asked for therapy and medication, but who was given nothing, was told to just “get over it.”

Zoe knows that mental illness isn’t an excuse for everything, that all the bad things her brother did can’t be ignored just because of it. She knows that. 

Then, she meets Evan Hansen, really meets him. And for the first time in her entire life, she starts to _get_ her brother, starts to understand things, starts to understand why he did what he did. She sees her brother reflected into the body of this boy. 

And, with every look, both forward and backward, she exonerates her brother bit by bit.

By the time Zoe has stopped being angry with Connor, she doesn’t have the energy to be angry with Evan.

So, she lets her mother cry, and she lets her father bit his tongue, but she doesn’t join in. 

She doesn’t understand why Evan did what he did, and she’ll probably never understand it. 

But Zoe has been angry for sixteen years and she doesn’t want to be angry any longer.

She asks her parents not to tell anyone what Evan did. They agree. She doesn’t think they would have, anyway, though. She can see how much they love him, how much they still love him, in their eyes. She wonders, for a few months, what would’ve happened to them all if they loved Connor the way they love Evan. 

Then, she decides to never ask that question again, because it doesn’t do anyone any good.

Zoe Murphy moves on. She calls Evan’s mother, after she noticed that Evan was absent from school for four days. She asks if he’s okay. (Really, she’ll never admit this to anyone, but she’s asking if he’s alive. Because she already knows he isn’t okay.)

Zoe Murphy forgives Evan Hansen. She knows that a lot of people wouldn’t ever do that, that a lot of people would be furious forever, disgusted forever, revolted forever. 

But she isn’t a lot of people. She’s just herself.

She calls Alana Beck and holds her tight, presses kisses all over her girlfriend’s body and feels her warmth. She smiles and places a warm coffee into her stressed girlfriend’s hand during finals. “Take care of yourself,” she whispers.

Alana looks back, softly. They just finished building the orchard. She’s recovering, too, in a different but just as valid way. “I will.”

“You’ll do amazingly,” Zoe says, her brown eyes light.

“I will,” Alana agrees, repeating herself, her face breaking into a smile. 

Zoe kisses her cheek and realizes she’s in love.

She turns seventeen.

Alana graduates.

Zoe tries not to think about Connor’s name not being called.

She claps as loud as she possibly can, hands aching, when Alana is beckoned to the podium. 

She claps just as loudly as “Evan Hansen” is called. 

She meets his eye as Jared pulls him into an embrace, arms wrapping like vices around Evan’s waist. 

Evan smiles at her through tears.

She smiles back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've personally thought that Evan needed hospitalization since I first saw this musical. He is just so. Not okay. Even at the end of "So Big/So Small". If you ever feel this way, hospitalization will help. It is never something to be ashamed of, and most insurances nowadays do cover most of the costs! Please! If you need help, get it!
> 
> Also, I sort of cried (I did) writing Zoe's perspective of this all. She's such an important character and she's so Wow and strong and just....incredible. What's expressed in this chapter is all my own personal belief as to how a lot of the musical ends canonically. Zoe is one of the most fascinating characters in any form of media, and I really hope I did her justice with this!
> 
> Also! Leave your thoughts and opinions down below! I love hearing from you all so much, and I cannot thank you enough. This whole experience has been so amazing. ONE CHAPTER LEFT!!!! AHHH! I cannot express my gratitude for you all enough! All the love! Comments make my day!
> 
> <3 <3


	30. The Finish

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan takes a step forward.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> people!!! it's the last chapter!!! it's the longest one yet!! ahhhhhHHH!!!

The sun is shining when Evan leaves the hospital after five long days. Evan doesn’t seem keen on discussing what happened during those five days, so Jared tries not to ask too many questions about it all. The car is silent as they drive home, albeit for the brisk brush of summer wind.

Home. Jared pauses. Home. He lets his brain wander, for just a moment, the image of a small brick house bursting into his mind. One bedroom. Whitewashed walls. Small pots on every windowsill, plants peaking out. Evan standing in the living room. Their living room.

It’s so clear it almost blinds him.

They turn onto Evan’s street, and then, suddenly, a hand is on Jared’s. “Can you pull over?” Evan whispers, his voice low but clear.

Jared slows to a halt, turning up a small side alley for privacy, “Are you alright? Do you feel sick? Is-”

“I’m fine,” Evan interrupts-- _that’s new_ \--his hands pressed into the smooth fabric of his pants. “I am. I just. Can we get out of the car, for just a moment?” It’s something he learned during all of those therapy sessions. _Ask for what you want, Evan. People can’t just read your mind. You have to tell them, directly, precisely._

Jared nods slowly, a calm facade over his expression, but the twitchy movements of his hands reveal otherwise. They vacate the car. 

Evan walks around to the opposite side of the vehicle, and before Jared can move, Evan’s arms are wrapping tightly around him. Evan presses his face into the crook of Jared’s neck, eyes squeezed shut, as Jared’s arms slowly wrap around his waist.

Five days felt like an eternity.

Jared lets his own eyes slip closed, his breath falling into sync with the other boy’s. He presses a steady hand to Evan’s back, trying to push back the tears that threaten to fall down his face.

“I missed you so much,” Evan whispers, his voice choked. “I didn’t think it was possible to miss someone that much.”

Jared swallows thickly, “It was just five days.” Suddenly, Evan makes to move away, but Jared quickly stops him. “No, no, I didn’t-I didn’t mean it like that. I… I missed you so much, too.”

“Yeah?”

“Of course.” Jared pulls back just a little, his hands still placed on his boyfriend’s hipbones, “I’m really proud of you, Ev. As dorky or cheesy or whatever as that may sound, I’m really proud of you.” He meets Evan’s eyes. They’re clearer than before, the rings of green no longer hidden underneath layers upon layers of self-hatred.

It’s not perfect. Hospitalization isn’t a cure-all. It’s not like Evan is magically “better.” It isn’t. They both know that. But it is a step in the right direction.

“I did it for myself,” Evan says abruptly, his voice louder than usual. “I’m getting better for myself. ‘Cause I deserve it. Not ‘cause I want to please anyone, or-or anything. It’s for me.”

Jared brushes the back of his fingers over Evan’s cheek, nodding slowly, barely understanding. “You deserve only the best in the entire world.”

Evan blinks, leaning forward slowly, “So do you.”

They kiss, standing in the middle of a deserted alleyway, lips fitting together like two matching puzzle pieces, arms wrapped around each other, the smell of the hospital still thick in Evan’s hair, the warmth of their bodies radiating into the warming summer breeze. 

When they do finally arrive at Evan’s house, Heidi is standing by the doorway, arms wrapped around her body, waiting. Evan hugs her close. Jared stands back, letting them have their moment. They both deserve it and so much more.

After a few moments, Evan's hand reaches for him, stretches out and pulls him in. All three of them stand in the doorway, their arms wrapped around each other, trying and failing not to cry. The tears that fall down their faces aren’t ones of sadness, though, there ones of new possibilities.

Evan returns to school. Luckily, what with being a second semester senior, he doesn’t have much make-up work to do. Jared watches as another senior, a girl who’s in Evan’s anthropology class, approaches him in the hallway on his second day back and softly asks where he was for the past few days. Jared watches as a lie flickers across Evan’s face--“Oh, I was out of town, visiting some family.”--before he takes a deep breath and says, “I was in the hospital. For mental health stuff. Voluntary admission. I’m out now, so…” 

Jared watches as the girl blinks a few times at Evan before nodding. “That’s...chill,” she replies, obviously stunned that Evan told her any of that. “I’m glad you’re doing better.”

Evan nods slowly, pulling at one end of his backpack. “Thank you. I am, too.”

They talk for a few more moments, before the end-of-lunch bell rings and they head out. Evan looks up at the ceiling for a few moments, before turning to Jared. “I’m not ashamed about working to get better.”

He says things like that a lot. Little, seemingly rehearsed phrases, probably ones his therapist has told him over and over. _I’m not ashamed about working to get better. I’m getting better for myself, because I deserve it. It’s okay to not be okay, and it’s not my fault whenever I’m not okay. I don’t always need to explain everything I’m feeling. It’s okay to ask for help. Getting better takes time and effort_. He repeats little things like that a lot. Over and over until, until one day, he’s not just repeating the words anymore. Because, one day, he actually believes them.

Evan’s put on two different medications. An antidepressant and something for his anxiety. He visits a therapist once a week and a psychiatrist whenever it’s necessary. 

He still worries about the cost, worries about how in the world he’s going to pay for all of this for the rest of his life. 

He still has panic attacks. They’re not as common, but they definitely do happen. Days when Evan feels like he can’t breathe, when the entire weight of the world is pressing down on his chest, crushing his ribcage, when everything’s too bright and too loud and just too much. Eventually, though, those days occur less often than not.

He’s not perfect. He never will be. But he’s getting better.

The Murphys don’t tell anyone the truth. He keeps waiting, waiting and waiting and waiting. Every day, he wakes up and wonders if maybe today will be the day. The day when the truth comes out, when Zoe publishes a tell-all explaining how Evan lied to her entire family, to the entire school, to the entire world. But that day never comes.

The guilt of his actions is sometimes so overwhelming that he can’t think straight. He tries, numerous times, tries to reach out to Larry, Cynthia, and Zoe. He types in her phone number but is never able to press the call button. He pulls up a chat on Facebook but is never able to press send. He doesn’t think he can possibly make it better, can possibly atone for his actions.

It’s something he’ll have to deal with for the rest of his life.

They graduate, caps thrown in the air. High school is over. It’s over, all of it, all the furtive hallway glances and growing mountains of homework. It’s all over. Jared pulls Evan so close to him that he feels like he’ll never let go.

Alana Beck texts Evan a week after graduation. Asks him to meet her at a coffee shop uptown. She apologizes for leaking the note--the letter--and asks if they can still be friends. “Friends.” Not “acquaintances.” Friends. Evan apologizes, too, for everything. It takes a long while for him to stop apologizing.

Alana leaves a few weeks later, off to some prestigious university. She didn’t put any of her work with The Connor Project on her resume, feeling uncomfortable with profiting from it all, in any way or form. She gets in anyway, as everyone--except perhaps her--knew she would. She plans to major in law, with a minor in human resources.

Zoe comes out to her mother and father. Her and Alana are managing with long-distance. They text and Snapchat daily, as well as call and Facetime at least once a week. They make it work. They leave each day in the moment, as it comes. 

Zoe looks at her girlfriend and thinks to herself, I am so in love.

Jared goes to school in the city, at Nesnielk University, a twenty-minute bus ride away. 

Evan takes a gap year. He never managed to apply to any scholarships during senior year, too caught up in everything, and he needs to earn money. He needs to get better, too, to really get better. Working at Pottery Barn is interesting, to say the least. It’s his biggest step forward. Most people would overlook something like that, but every day, Evan is surrounded by people he’s never met before, in a place that is not his own, surrounded by questions to which he might not know the answer. So, every morning, he takes several deep breaths, pulls on his robe, and prepares himself for the workday ahead.

Evan and Jared break up. 

Once. 

It becomes too much for Evan. He feels like he isn’t worth it, like he is holding Jared back, like Jared should be off enjoying college and living his life, not tied down to someone who just barely stopped having panic attacks in the work room of Pottery Barn. He feels like he isn’t enough. 

They get back together. Tears and hugs and kisses and whispers and confessions. 

Communication really is key.

They stay together. They’ve never loved someone else more.

Evan applies to so many scholarships he almost can’t keep track. Whenever he isn’t working, he’s applying to scholarships. Whenever he isn’t applying to scholarships, he’s writing for his portfolio. And whenever he isn’t writing for his portfolio, he’s talking to Jared or his mother. 

It’s hard, sometimes, being alone in that house so much. It’s like one gigantic summer, alone indoors until Heidi comes home at six o’clock or so. Oftentimes later. 

Jared makes him playlist after playlist so he has something to fill the endless stream of quiet, something to connect himself with others. He fills all of his other time by taking more shifts and going to therapy sessions.

He doesn’t magically become a social butterfly. It doesn’t work like that. But he is getting better.

Then, one day, he gets a letter in the mail. A thick, heavy letter with clean, clear penmanship. It’s an acceptance letter, from Nesnielk University, offering him a place at their school as well as a partial scholarship. It isn’t a full ride, but it’s more than what he needs. He’ll just keep working during college. On top of it all, It’s the same university Jared attends. 

Evan’s therapist--Dr. Luap--wonders whether or not that’s for the best, whether Evan really should stay with Jared, or whether it would be better for him to go elsewhere, to branch out, to find new people. But Evan...Evan doesn’t have a doubt in his mind. He accepts the offer. He’s going to college. 

He’s going _to college._

Jared drives home and Heidi takes off one of her shifts. They stand in the kitchen, drinking sparkling grape juice and laughing, listening to soft music and none of them can stop smiling.

Then, one fateful day in May, Evan Hansen receives a text message from a number he thought he’d never hear from again. Zoe Murphy. Asking him to meet at the orchard.

The orchard. Right. They reached their goal all those months ago, made enough money to restore the entire few acres. Then, Evan stepped back as Co-President of the Connor Project, letting Alana take full reigns of the organization, feeling as though he no longer deserved a place on that board. Visions of Connor stopped appearing in Evan’s mind, though he still makes brief appearance in Evan’s dreams. He sits, watches. Evan doesn’t think he’s ever going to leave.

In Evan’s place, Zoe joins the organization, which just keeps growing and growing.

He meets Zoe in the orchard one day in June. She’s standing a few feet away, staring up at a plaque on the entrance gate. Slowly, Evan clears his throat, “Hey.”

Zoe jolts, turning around quickly, “Hey.”

“How-how are you?” He tries to keep his voice regulated, keep his hands straight by his sides, not twitching or pulling or pinching or fidgeting or-

“I’m doing well. School’s winding down.”

“Yeah, yeah, you’re a senior, then, right?” He phrases it like a question, like there’s any way he could possibly forget, even when there isn’t.

“Yeah! And you’re a freshman?”

Evan swallows, glancing down, “No, no, I’m not actually, I took… I took a year off. I’m working at Pottery Barn, actually. If you’re ever in need of overpriced home decor.”

Zoe chuckles, softly, sweetly, and part of Evan’s chest falls through. “I don’t need any at the moment, no, but I’ll keep it in mind.”

“There’s a friends and family discount that I could get you.” 

Zoe looks up, their eyes meeting suddenly. “Friends and family?” she repeats.

“Yeah.” Evan nods, his mouth feeling absurdly dry. _Please._ “A friends and family discount.”

“Well, I’ll definitely take you up on that offer.”

Evan presses his eyes closed, releasing a breath he didn’t realize he had been holding. “Yeah?”

“Of course.” Zoe glances around for a few moments, moving towards one of the trees. “You haven’t been here before, have you? I can tell.”

Evan rubs his thumb and his middle finger together a few times, steadying himself. “No, I haven’t. I’ve-I’ve driven by it, twice a day at least for the past seven months, but I’ve never been inside. I felt-I felt like…like I didn’t deserve it, you know?” His eyes trace over the budding plants, the small trees just bursting out of the ground. New growth. New life. “It’s beautiful.”

“It is,” Zoe agrees. 

A moment of silence passes between them. 

Evan has to break it. He has to, he has to, he has to, he has to learn to reach out. “I-” he starts, abruptly, shattering the quiet. “I’m sorry. I know that isn’t-that isn’t a worthy explanation, I know, and I know that there’s nothing I can do that could possibly ever atone for what I did, for what I’ve done, but I just wanted to say, I want to say that I am so sorry. For everything. And I just want to apologize for everything, to everyone, but especially-especially to you.”

He takes a deep breath, glancing at Zoe, but she doesn’t say a word. _Please._ He continues, roughly, “I went through one of my old yearbooks, from eighth grade, I think, and there was this one section where everyone could have something special about what makes them, you know, them. And most kids just did a collage with their friends or whatever, and I just-I didn’t do anything, actually, but-but Connor, he, um, had a list of his top ten favorite books. And I know-I know that isn’t the same as knowing him, I know it isn’t and never will be, but I’ve been... I’ve been reading them all.”

He’s on the third book--Connor’s seventh favorite--reading carefully with a pen in one hand, circling and scribbling and marking. He feels Connor around him sometimes, a strange presence, this unexplainable connection that isn’t fading, that never will fade.

Zoe turns, abruptly, her expression difficult to read, “I just want to say that- She inhales deeply, pressing her hands together. “I don’t know, those days when you were in the hospital, I thought-I… I’m just… I’m really glad. I’m really glad you’re alive, Evan. Beyond glad, I just- You made a lot of mistakes. A lot of really fucking big mistakes, but I…” She drops her hands to her sides. “I forgive you, Evan Hansen.”

I forgive you, Evan Hansen.

I forgive you, Evan Hansen.

I forgive you, Evan Hansen.

Evan covers his face with his two hands, taking deep, hurrying breaths, hunching over. He can’t speak. _She forgives you, she forgives you, she forgives you, whether or not you deserve her forgiveness she’s given it to you._

He forces his breathing to even after a few moments, to relax, his heart to stop pounding so loudly. He still doesn’t know what to say. No words can explain.

He looks at her.

He sees Connor there, in her eyes.

She looks at him.

She sees Connor there, in his gaze.

Zoe smiles lightly, those clear brown eyes softening, “I’ll call you, okay? Alana is coming to visit in June, and maybe you and Jared could come with us to get coffee or something?”

_An olive branch._

What has Evan done to deserve Zoe Murphy?

What has the world done to deserve Zoe Murphy?

“Yes,” Evan nods. “Yes, yes, I’d love that. Jared would, too. We’d love to.” He bites his lip, pressing his eyes together, willing himself to stop crying. “Thank you.” He nods, “Thank you.”

She smiles, a hand reaching out to touch Evan’s shoulder lightly, recalling one of their previous conversations. “Don’t mention it.”

Evan stays in the orchard for an hour after Zoe leaves, sitting with his thoughts, staring at the plaque with Connor’s name written across it.

His heart feels something he hasn’t felt in a long time: hope.

He, Alana, Jared, and Zoe do all meet up for coffee. They talk for an hour or so, all pleasantries. It isn’t perfect. It so obviously isn’t perfect. But it’s good. It’s better. It’s another step forward.

He really is getting better.

Evan starts college. His roommate turns out to not be fairly relaxed, spending most of his time in the school library.

Evan spends most nights in Jared’s apartment anyway. He moved out of the dorms, setting up a small, cramped, but nevertheless cozy and homey place for himself. Evan sleeps wrapped up around his boyfriend, his head on Jared’s chest, listening to the sound of his heartbeat. 

Midnight kisses and warm chests.

Jared doesn’t declare his major until late sophomore year. He decides to be a set designer. He’s always loved architecture, building things, creating things, and through theatre, he can create an entire world as well. The first show he works on is a school production of Spring Awakening. Evan sees the show at least ten times, all from different perspectives, watching Jared’s magic come to life. He cries the whole time. It’s a long while until he stops.

Evan majors in botany with a minor in creative writing.

It should be impossible to be as in love as they are. It isn’t.

For their third dating anniversary, Jared sends Evan a coupon from furniture Pottery Barn in the mail, all old-fashioned with a hand-written ridiculously romantic note attached. Across the note, after various declarations of love, is written, "Move in with me?"

They move in together.

They both graduate. Time passes. They both get jobs. 

Some days, it feels like everything will come crashing down. But those days pass. And they stay afloat.

They have each other, and other people, too. Their mothers. Zoe and Alana. New colleagues, new _friends_.

Evan publishes his first children’s book when he turns twenty-two. It’s short, only about fifteen pages, with colorful illustrations, telling the tale of an anxious tree who finally learned to let other people in.

They move to New York City after Jared is offered a job as an assistant set designer at an off-Broadway show. 

Evan hangs up beautiful photos of nature across their shoebox apartment, placing little succulents in every single window. Being in New York City is, what with all the bustling crowds and flashing lights, for Evan, the biggest step forward yet.

As for Jared, assistant set designer at an off-Broadway show turns into set designer at an off-Broadway show, which then turns into an assistant set designer at a Broadway show, which finally, finally, becomes a set designer at a Broadway show. He may or may not cry when he gets that call, offering him the job of his dreams. (He does.)

Evan publishes a book. A real book. A memoir, in fact. Nearly three-hundred pages. With the explicit permission from the entire Murphy family, Evan tells his story. He tells it all, every single last detail, spilling across the pages like the biggest therapy assignment he’s ever had. About his life before, during, and after the events of senior year. He donates all of the proceeds to The Connor Project. The organization is now a non-profit, dedicating to not only keeping Connor Murphy’s memory alive, but to helping other teeangers who suffer like he did.

Neither Alana nor Jared still work for the organization, but their names, along with Evan’s, are listed on the Founder’s page in clear, bold letters. Zoe Murphy, after taking the helm of the still-growing organization, is the youngest CEO of a major non-profit in history.

The New York Times heralds Evan’s breakout memoir as: “Gritty, life-altering, and painfully honest” with a five-star rating. It sells out across America.

So much more time passes. They both turn thirty.

Jared whispers "I love you" into Evan's neck every morning when he leaves for work.

Evan’s book is made into a play. Jared works as the set designer. It’s nearly absurd how some things work out.

After the show begins to truly take off, no longer truly needing their assistance, they both leave the city, needing breathing room. They return to their hometown for just a few months, surrounded by Heidi and Ms. Kleinman, and rent an apartment right by their old high school.

It begins to seem like every step backward is accompanied by two steps forward.

They're succeeding in ways they never thought possible.

Jared proposes to Evan on a sunny day in June. They’re at the Kesap Conservatory, inside the butterfly room, surrounded by the hum of life and the bright colors of flowers and plants, holding hands, when Jared drops onto one knee and holds out a small, velvet box. It’s a simple ring, a band of silver and titanium, a stripe of blue around the middle. 

Jared’s not really sure about whether or not he’s really supposed to give a guy an engagement ring, but he decides that he doesn’t really care what he is and is not supposed to do. Jared gets one for himself too, figures they might as well both wear engagement rings, because why not. His is the same design, but with a stripe of forest green around the middle. The color of Evan’s eyes.

Evan has never smiled more in his entire life. He says “Yes” so many times it stops sounding like an actual word. 

Evan doesn’t invite his father to the wedding. He turns to Jared one night, sitting in their living room, wrapped up in a blanket. “I don’t want him to come,” he explains. “So he’s not going to come.”

Jared hugs him close and agrees.

They’re young. So young, really.

Evan closes Jared’s hand in his, skin against skin.

They’re both getting better.

Jared loves him so much.

Evan has never felt more alive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There it is! I did promise you a happy ending!
> 
> I cannot, honestly, believe it's over. I can't. I've spent nearly four months creating this 66,000-word piece (ahhhH!HHH!), and I cannot be more thankful. You all have been so wonderful throughout this whole process and I cannot thank you enough. I'm actually crying, oh my goodness.
> 
> It's here that I would like to announce that I will, in fact, be publishing occasional one-shots in the YKTGTYLR universe, answering some of the questions I left unanswered (what happened to Charlie, how did Jared propose, how are Zolana, etc.) This fic will now, therefore, be part of a series. You can subscribe to the whole series to get updates about whenever something in the YKTGTYLR!au is posted!
> 
> I can't thank you enough. I've said that a billion times but it's always true.
> 
> I just love these characters so, so, so much. (ALSO! "Nesnielk"--from Nesnielk University--is just "Kleinsen" spelled backward. And Evan's new therapist ('cause I didn't think he should stay with Dr. Shermann), Dr. Luap is just "Paul"--i.e. Justin Paul--spelled backwards!) And I'm so glad you all did as well. And! I love set designer!Jared and writer!Evan with my entire heart! And Zoe and Alana! 
> 
> All the love, as always, and find me on Tumblr [neglectedrainbow](https://neglectedrainbow.tumblr.com) to talk with me either about this fic or about Kleinsen is general!!! (Also, if any of you ever make art for this I will love you forever oh my goodness).
> 
> I can't believe it's over...sort of!
> 
> THANK YOU, THANK YOU, THANK YOU! <3 <3 <3

**Author's Note:**

> hope you enjoyed! please leave comments about what you think should happen next! suggestions and potential pairings are highly appreciated! comments are what keep me going, thank y'all so much <3
> 
> also find me at neglectedrainbow on tumblr for more content, and ask/request anything!


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